A Place to Call Home
by Terri Osborne
Summary: Susan Ivanova and Lyta Alexander take on the Psi Corps. My take on the Telepath Crisis. (Story is incomplete. Publishers are beginning to be interested in my non-B5 work, so I am not sure when I'm going to get back to this.))
1. And so it begins

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 1

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

No infringement on any existing or future copyrights involving the Christina Rosetti poem is intended.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

Remember me when I am gone away,  
Gone far away into the silent land;  
When you can no more hold me by the hand,  
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.  
Remember me when no more, day by day,  
You tell me of our future that you planned,  
Only remember me; you understand  
It will be late to counsel then or pray.  
Yet if you should forget me for a while  
And afterwards remember, do not grieve;  
For if the darkness and corruption leave  
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,  
Better by far you should forget and smile  
Than that you should remember and be sad.

-_Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)_

----------

_December 12, 2263_

All it took was a thought.  
With little more than a wish that it happen, the engines buried several decks beneath Lyta Alexander's feet roared to life. Their vibrations resonated through the ship's hull, right into its sole passenger's heart.  
After a year of travel, she was finally free.  
G'Kar no longer needed the ship. His time for exploration was over.  
It would serve her well for her own quest.  
The search for a world that human telepaths could call their own.  
And she had just the planet in mind.

----------

_February 14, 2264_

Captain Susan Ivanova stared at the stark walls of the office that surrounded her, her thoughts a million miles away and two years into the past.  
There was absolutely nothing that she could do to change the fact that he was gone, not unless she could personally come up with some serious advances in regeneration technology. It had been her final order before leaving Babylon Five. It had yet to be countermanded.  
Maybe there was something to be said for this Captain Lochley after all.  
Susan silently hoped that one day she would meet the woman, if only to see if everything she had heard about her successor in the last two years were true.  
Two years of the life he had given her had come and gone and how had she spent them? Looking for a way back. Two years of looking for something resembling a miracle in the remote civilizations out near the Rim, a search that had come up empty. She had thought she'd found something once, but even that had turned out to be a nothing more than an errant energy spike.  
The classic Susan Ivanova luck had reared its ugly head once again.  
Where the hell was Lorien when she needed him?  
"Captain, communication coming in from Earthdome. Gold Channel. Ultraviolet priority."  
Forcing herself out of the past, she turned her attentions to the vidscreen on her desk. If the call was that important, she could at least devote more than her customary level of attention. "Put it through here."  
The face that appeared on her monitor was quite a surprise. "Major Ryan?"  
"One and the same, Captain. Good to see you again."  
"And you," she stated. "What can I do for you?"  
The Major's cherubic face held an expression that suggested that Susan was not going to like what came next.  
"Captain, I really hate to have to do this to you, especially with these circumstances."  
Susan's eyebrows furrowed. "Circumstances, Major?"  
"I am assuming that you have heard of the Remember Byron movement?" he asked, folding his hands on the table before him.  
"Yes, but I thought Psi Corps brought them under control six months ago?"  
"We were led to believe that. Unfortunately, it wasn't true. There were three bombings at Psi Corps recruitment centers yesterday. All of them were claimed by Remember Byron. From what we've been able to discover, Psi Corps consciously lied to the Senate."  
Susan tried to look surprised by that, but just could not manage it. "So, Remember Byron never really left?"  
"Precisely. Their operations went silent for a while, but not anymore. If anything, they are becoming bolder in their actions. The President believes they should be brought under control as quickly as possible. That's why I'm contacting you personally."  
"With all due respect, Major, why me? I don't have any connections to them."  
At that, he smiled. "But you do, Captain. Byron was merely the movement's first leader. The violence began near the time of his death. That was when a new leader emerged, a leader that I understand you know personally."  
Susan racked her brain. She knew of no revolutionaries, telepathic or otherwise. "Who?"  
"Lyta Alexander."  
Susan's breath caught. "Lyta? _She's_ leading this thing?"  
"Yes, Captain. That is why you are being assigned to put an end to the Remember Byron movement as quickly as possible. Use whatever means you feel are necessary. I know you'll get the job done. The general public can't find out what we're doing, so it's all in your discretion. So as few people know about your mission as possible, you will be reporting directly to me in this matter."  
Susan nodded. "Understood, and thank you. We'll put a stop to this whatever it takes."  
"I know you will, Captain. Earthdome out."  
The screen went black briefly, but only until the official confirmation of her new orders had been downloaded. She carefully read them over, deciding on the best course of action. If Lyta really was heading up this movement, then there was only one place to start.  
"Captain to the Bridge. Set course for Babylon Five, best possible speed."

----------

_February 18, 2264_

Lyta stepped into what the locals called the Grand Bazaar, taking great care to feel out the vicinity as she passed. Technically, she was not on the run, but if the wrong person recognized her any safety she may have had was gone. She hated heavily populated planets sometimes. Daltron Seven was not proving to be a planet that she would remember fondly.  
Putting up the thickest telepathic screens she could manage, she willed herself to be invisible to everyone in the area. Judging by how much passersby were jostling her, the tactic was working. It was beginning to remind her of her last trip to the Drazi homeworld.  
A part of her wished that Byron were there. Would it have made things easier? She had no idea. She did miss him, though. So much of her life had changed because of that one man. The Great Maker only knew what would have become of her if she had never met Byron.  
With the Vorlons gone, her life had lost its meaning. She had floundered helplessly, until Sheridan had had the brilliant idea to pick up where the Vorlons had left off. He had used her as if she were nothing more than a weapon, not a human being. "Lyta do this." "Lyta do that." Not a single "Would you please," and certainly no "Thank you."  
They had even had the gall to try to make her move into smaller quarters after the Vorlons had departed, saying that if she wanted to stay in her home, she had to be the one to pay the rent. It would have been all right if she had not been a rogue telepath, unable to get a job simply because she had taken a stand. "Can't hire a rogue telepath," she had heard over and over again, "there's just too much risk involved."  
Still, she went on, until finally the circumstances forced her into a contract with one evil little Psi Cop named Bester just to get her name removed from the rogue list . . . and maybe get a job. Even that had proven worthless.  
Thinking she had no other options, she'd cooperated with Sheridan's plans and helped him retake Earth. Still, there was not a word of gratitude from the man who eventually was made leader of the free galaxy. Still, there was no respect.  
All of that had changed the day she met Byron.  
A former Psi Cop, among the strongest of their kind, Byron had escaped the Psi Corps only a few years before he'd stepped onto Babylon Five with nothing more than a small group of rogue telepaths. His people, he had called them. A small group that wanted nothing more than a safe harbor from the tyranny of the Psi Corps. A small group that only wanted a place they could call home.   
Sheridan had offered them sanctuary, thinking he should have a few human telepaths on his side for a war that had then been only a figment of his imagination. Ammunition for a war that would soon be knocking on the front door of the Interstellar Alliance itself.  
A dark smile crept onto Lyta's face. She would make certain that Sheridan stopped seeing telepaths as just another weapon for his arsenal. It was just a shame that Byron wouldn't be there to see the victory.  
Now he was gone, a martyr for the cause.  
She had Sheridan to thank for that, too.  
Her steps led her around the Bazaar, stopping at booth after booth along the way for supplies. Some fruits from one booth, a few vegetables from another, nothing overly perishable. Nothing that wouldn't last until the next time she could stop for provisions.  
"Excuse me," she said, trying to pass by one rather burly Brakiri shopper.  
The shopper, however, didn't seem to be one for common courtesy. He took one step back and, combined with his size, the force of the bump knocked Lyta into a small group of people. Without a second look her way, he walked off as if nothing had happened.  
"Hey!" Lyta shouted, making her apologies to the shoppers as she helped them recover their balance.  
The buffoon, however, didn't slow in his escape.  
Her temper flared. She began to stalk through the jungle of shoppers toward the Brakiri, intent on giving him a lesson in manners. Her senses told her when innocent people were near, allowing her steps to go unimpeded as she drew closer to her target.  
Still, he kept walking.  
The more he kept walking, the more her irritation grew.  
This fool obviously had no idea of who he had offended.  
She was drawing closer when he stopped cold in his tracks.  
"I think you owe someone an apology." The voice that carried over the crowd was distinctly female. It was not one Lyta recognized, but it carried an unusual amount of authority. Her accent vaguely reminded Lyta of that Ranger, Marcus. The oversized Brakiri blocked her view, so she decided to do a little investigating of her defender the only way she could. Looking around, she made sure that the coast was clear before reaching out toward the woman telepathically.  
What she met were blocks that could only have been put up by an incredibly strong telepath. Certainly stronger than Byron had been.   
"Why don't you apologize to the lady, and then you can be on your way," the mysterious woman calmly said.  
Lyta left her feelers out and discovered another interesting thing. The man was under the influence of quite a bit of telepathic persuasion. She knew the power existed, had even used it on a few rare occasions. What surprised her was how fast it was working. Lyta raised her estimation of her defender's abilities another notch.  
The Brakiri slowly turned around. When she got a good look at his eyes, they were glassy, unfocussed. He looked to be in some sort of telepathic trance.  
"I am . . . sorry," he said in a mechanical tone.  
Lyta nodded, stunned.  
Without another word, the Brakiri walked off into the crowd.  
Lyta turned to find her advocate heading off in the opposite direction. "Thank you!" she called.  
The woman turned, and it became abundantly clear why she had used her telepathic abilities instead of her fists. She stood a good three inches shorter than Lyta. Her hair was black, like shining glass, pulled into a tight ponytail. Her features were delicate, but strong, with eyes that were a startling dark green. "You're welcome. Now, if I were you, I'd be on my way, Miss Alexander."  
"You know who I am?"  
"Every self-respecting telepath in this sector knows who you are," the woman said. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"  
"What's your name?" Lyta asked, stepping toward the woman.  
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Lyta expected a probe at her defenses, but one never came. "Why do you want to know?"  
Lowering her voice, she chose her words carefully. "You're a strong telepath. One of the strongest I've ever seen, in or out of the Corps. My guess is you've gone rogue. How long has it been since you went home?"  
The woman's eyes closed. Lyta sensed that the subject was painful. "My home was destroyed six years ago," she said.  
Lyta cursed herself. "I'm sorry. I really am."  
"There's nothing to be sorry for. The Shadows blew it apart, and I helped teach them a lesson."  
Something about her story struck a chord in Lyta. She felt as if she had heard it before. "What about Earth? Do you have any family on Earth?"  
The woman shook her head.  
"Help me." The words were out of Lyta's mouth before she realized that she had said them. Gently touching the woman's arm, Lyta led her to a more private area of the Bazaar. "Help me find a home for our people. I need someone with your talents. Help me and maybe I can help find a new home for you, too."  
"I am not a charity case," she snarled.  
"I didn't say you were. Look, if you know who I am, then you know what I'm fighting for. I'll admit, I've made more than a couple of mistakes since this whole thing started, but that's over. I'm headed for Mars. An associate of mine there was putting together a force that I could use against the Corps. I'm going to need help leading it."  
"What makes you think you can trust me?"  
"You know who I am. Judging by that little display, if you wanted to kill me, you could have had anyone around here do it. I've seen the slimiest of Psi Cops that couldn't do what you just did. Deep scans, yes. Telepathic trances, yes. But full-out mind control? If the Shadows had that ability, we'd have lost the War. I can do it, but not that well. I'm curious to know how _you_ can do it so easily."  
The woman's green eyes narrowed. Lyta could feel a probe at her telepathic defenses. After a few seconds of debating whether to let her through, Lyta instead chose to see if she was strong enough to get there on her own.  
The woman was about to breach Lyta's defenses when she suddenly pulled back. "Can you get me to Babylon Five?" she asked.  
Lyta shook her head, still somewhat stunned, then gave the idea a second thought. "The deal for my freedom was that I had to leave the station and never come back. I suppose, technically, they couldn't do anything to me if I stayed on the ship. Mind if I ask why?"  
"I'm looking for an old friend. Last I heard, that's where he was."  
Lyta took a mental step back. She valued her freedom so much. Was getting this woman's help worth jeopardizing everything? She was without a doubt the strongest telepath Lyta had ever seen. She needed this woman on her side, no matter the cost. She would just have to convince Lochley and Zack of her innocence if it came up.  
Then again, there were always ways to keep the subject from coming up. She had thought G'Kar crazy for installing it, but maybe that sensor-shielded cargo hold would finally come in handy. "All right," she said. "We'll stop on our way to Mars, agreed?"  
The woman smiled. "Agreed."  
Lyta looked down at her small bundle of food. "I've only been getting enough food for one. So, if you want anything, we'd better get it now."  
"I've got plenty of supplies in my quarters," the woman said, stepping toward the door. "Should be enough to last a few weeks."  
Lyta followed her, remembering one thing. "You know, you never told me your name."  
"Alina," she said. "Alina Minette."

----------

_February 23, 2264_

Susan stepped into Captain Elizabeth Lochley's office with all of the military precision she could muster, convinced that she had to make the proper impression. She was a ship's captain now and she fully intended to be treated like one.  
Besides, she knew how well the station's rumor mill worked. Her departure must have given it grist for the last two years. Thanks to a few well-placed contacts, Susan had heard a few of those rumors, even the one that said she had left the station because of Marcus.  
Although that one was true, she still didn't have to like it.  
Captain Lochley had apparently been waiting. Susan stopped at the doorway, surprised at the physical resemblance between herself and the new captain. Where Susan normally wore her dark brown hair in a tight ponytail, Lochley appeared to prefer wearing hers loose. The blue eyes Susan had been seeing in the mirror lately looked dull compared to Lochley's. It was getting eerie, same uniform, same stance. Hell, the woman even held her hands behind her back the same way. Susan almost wanted to call Corwin in, just to see if he could tell the difference.  
_He_ was still here, wasn't he?  
"Captain Ivanova," Lochley said, extending a hand. "Welcome back."  
Susan shook the woman's hand. "Thank you, Captain. I'm sorry to say it's not a social call, though."  
Lochley gave a curt nod. "I understand. The station's at your disposal. What can we do for you?"  
Susan took a step toward the window, looking out over the view of the slowly rotating central core. She just could not believe what she was about to ask. "I'm on Earthforce business. I need to speak with Lyta Alexander personally."  
Lochley shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible."  
"But, you just-"  
"I know," Lochley said, holding up a hand. "If she were here, I'd be more than happy to oblige you. The problem is she's gone. She left with G'Kar over a year ago."  
Susan's eyes shot open. "She left with G'Kar?"  
Lochley nodded.  
"Any idea where they went?"  
Lochley stepped over to her desk, punching a few buttons on her monitor. "Best we can give you is the flight plan they filed when they left. Looks like they were headed out near Emphili space."  
Susan's eyebrows furrowed at the reference. "That's one hell of a long trip, even in hyperspace."  
"That was G'Kar's idea. I think he wanted to get as far away from here as possible."  
"Why?"  
Lochley chuckled. "His fans. I take it you haven't read the Book of G'Kar yet?"  
Susan shook her head. "We've been out on the Rim for the last two years, Captain. It's hard to get the bestsellers."  
Lochley settled into her chair, her eyes narrowing. "So, Earthdome's put you after Lyta?"  
"Yes."  
"Between you and me, I wouldn't want your job for anything."  
"Why?" Susan asked, sinking into the cushions of the large sofa.  
Lochley stirred uneasily in her chair. "Frankly, telepaths have always spooked me a little. But Lyta, that one terrifies me."  
"The Lyta I knew wouldn't hurt a fly."  
"She's not the Lyta you knew, Captain. Hell, she's not the Lyta I met when I got here."  
"What happened to her?"  
"Byron," Lochley flatly replied.  
Susan shook her head. She had read bits and pieces about Byron from the reports sent by Earthdome. He had been the leader of a small band of rogue telepaths that had requested asylum on the station. Lochley's own report had described him as charismatic, charming; the classic example of a traditional cult leader.  
From what Susan could tell, everything had gone along just fine until Byron, with Lyta by his side, had confronted the Alliance demanding a homeworld for telepaths. He had basically said that the Alliance owed a debt to telepaths for the Shadow War, that telepaths were victims of the Vorlons and deserved reparations. If reparations could not come from the Vorlons, then they would come from their inheritors.  
Susan had chalked that up as his first mistake.  
From reading the reports, it appeared to have been the first of many. After everything that had happened here, it didn't surprise her one bit that Lochley was afraid of telepaths.  
What surprised her the most was Lyta. The telepath had done so much good during the Shadow War. They could not have retaken Earth without her help. How could someone like Lyta have fallen in with such a crowd? How could such a powerful telepath be lured in by someone like Byron? Lyta should have been able to see through the ruse immediately. Susan briefly wondered what she would have done in Lochley's place.  
"I don't know what happened here, Captain, but I need to understand it. I'd appreciate anything you could give me. Zack, too. It may help me figure out where she went."  
Lochley's link chirped. "Lochley, go."  
"Captain, you're needed in C and C."  
Susan didn't recognize the voice, but smiled all the same. "Never gives you a second's peace, does it?"  
Lochley rolled her eyes. "I'll be right there. Lochley out."  
"Look, you go put out the fire. We can get back to this later. Besides, there's something I need to take care of before I go."  
Lochley pulled herself out of the chair. "Go ahead. I'll have Security pull a full report. You'll get a copy of everything we've got. If you need anything else, just let me know."  
Susan nodded. "Thank you, Captain."  
Lochley stopped in the doorway. "And, for the record, Captain, it was nice finally meeting you."

----------

_February 23, 2264_

When she was sure Doctor Hobbs was looking the other way, Susan crossed the threshold of the cryo room. At the height of the Shadow War, every tube in the place had been filled with high-level telepaths. Now, however, they were all empty.  
Except one.  
Susan flattened a palm against the black metal of the cryo unit. "I'm here," she whispered. "I know you can't hear me. I wish you could. God knows I could use you around right now."  
She turned a guilty look toward the door, not quite sure she could handle someone accidentally walking in.  
The coast was clear.  
"I don't know what to do, Marcus. They want me to find Lyta, bring her in. I'm not sure I can do it. I don't know how to turn in a friend. What did she do to deserve this?"  
She leaned her forehead against the cold metal. The temperature was actually somewhat comforting. "She's taking on the Corps. God, Marcus, what do I do if I agree with her?"  
Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to wander over the situation. _What if_ she agreed with Lyta? _What if_ Lyta had a viable plan to take down the Psi Corps? Susan had already thrown her future out the door once to follow Sheridan on his crusade. It had taken something resembling a miracle for her to get her career back after that.  
Lyta's quest hit a little closer to home, though. Had Lyta finally found a way for Susan to pay back the Corps for her mother's suicide? Was vengeance enough to justify potentially walking away from the _Valkyrie_, and even Earthforce, forever?  
Worse yet, if it came down to it, could she bring herself to kill a friend?  
The chill against her forehead seemed to mutate into a cool calm, radiating into her neck, shoulders, and finally her arms. All she wanted to do was cry, but she'd shed enough tears on this station for one lifetime. No more.  
In the calm that encircled her, she came to a realization.  
"Whatever it takes, Marcus. Ryan told me to do whatever I thought had to be done. There's no way I'm going to know until I find Lyta. I don't think I could kill her, but I _do_ know that I can't let the Corps win, either."  
She slowly closed her eyes, feeling her composure slip back into place. Major Ryan had put her in the middle of a serious situation. They had to know about Sophie Ivanova. Major Ryan at the very least had to suspect the corner that he was boxing Susan into.  
Susan took a deep breath. No, she could not let the Corps win. Just the idea of working in their favor turned her stomach. The real problem was that she could not let Lyta win this, either. There had to be a middle ground, and she had to be the one to find it. 

  
[End part 1 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	2. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 2

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_February 23, 2264_

Lyta Alexander brushed her bright red hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was getting too long. Maybe when they reached Mars she could find someone sympathetic to the cause that could trim it. She let out a long sigh. "The simple things."  
"What?"  
"Oh, I just realized something, that's all."  
Alina Minette turned away from the ship's flight console. "What's that?"  
Lyta slipped the brush into a compartment in the countertop as she floated toward the flight deck. "How much I missed little things like a haircut once in a while."  
The console beeped, drawing Alina's attention. "Well, that will have to wait until we get to Mars. Strap in, we're coming out of hyperspace."  
Lyta slid into the passenger's seat, getting the buckles fastened just as Alina activated the jumpgate. Even after a year of travelling with G'Kar, she still hated jumpgates. The disorientation of leaving hyperspace always left her nauseous for at least a few minutes, and this time was no exception. When she finally recovered, her eyes were greeted with a sight she had thought she would never see again. The bronze sphere that was Epsilon Three acted as a backdrop for the slowly rotating space station. The tear that slowly ran down her cheek surprised her.  
"Are you okay, Lyta?"  
"Yes," she whispered. "I just never thought I'd be back here, that's all."  
Alina visually inspected the ships docked outside the spinning blue station, pointing at the largest, meanest looking ship in the group. "Well, it's going to have to be a quick visit. That looks like one of those new Earthforce destroyers I've heard about."  
Lyta wiped the tear away, following Alina's line of sight. "Great. They can't know we're here, can they?"  
Alina shook her head. "Not a chance."  
"What if they recognize the ship?"  
"Not possible," Alina said with a wicked smile. "You remember when we left I was working on the ship's computer?"  
"Yes," Lyta groaned, remembering the six-hour delay Alina's little impromptu work had caused.  
"Well, I gave us a little stealth technology while I was at it. Changed the ship's registry and planet of origin. This little ship is now registered to one Liana Stewart of Arisia Three."  
Something about the name of the planet sounded familiar to Lyta, but when she was unable to place it, she dismissed the thought. "Who's Liana Stewart?"  
"Nobody important. Precisely why I used her."  
Lyta leaned back as best she could. "What if they trace the name?"  
"They'll find records of her whereabouts being unknown. A stopover here and there being the only thing that's keeping them from officially declaring her dead."  
"So, she's been floating around the galaxy since, say, the Shadow War?" Lyta asked.  
Alina shot a smile at Lyta, "Or, possibly, before that?"  
"Babylon Control to approaching passenger vessel. You are not on today's docking schedule. Please state the nature of your business."  
Lyta pursed her lips. "Sounds like security's gotten a little tighter."  
Alina, however, appeared to be taking the whole thing in stride. She flipped the switch that controlled the communications system. Lyta recognized the face of Lieutenant Corwin on the monitor and prayed that he didn't see her.  
"Babylon Control, this is the Phoenix," Alina said, putting on her most winning smile. The tone she injected into her voice reminded Lyta of an old salesman she had met once upon a time. "My apologies for not letting you know I was coming. I'm a bit of an explorer, you see. Didn't think I was even going to stop until a few hours ago. The nature of my business is rest for me and refueling for my ship. You wouldn't happen to know if there are any quarters available for a few hours, would you?"  
From the angle she was at, Lyta could barely see Corwin smiling. "No, ma'am. I'm afraid you'll have to check on that when you dock. If you'll hold position, I'll put you next in line for Bay Thirteen."  
"Thirteen?" Alina asked. "Wouldn't you know? That's my lucky number. Thank you, Babylon Control."  
Lyta had to put her palm to her mouth to stifle the giggle. She'd only met Corwin a couple of times, but she was certain that he was blushing.  
"You're welcome, Phoenix. Babylon Control out."  
Alina's fingers had barely left the communications unit's switch when Lyta released her giggle. "I didn't realize you were such an awful flirt!"  
"Who's flirting?" she asked, turning serious. "Besides, it got us in there, didn't it?"  
Lyta rolled her eyes. "Poor Corwin."  
Alina slipped the ship into its assigned and, Lyta found, all-too-familiar docking bay. Unbuckling her safety harness, she stood and straightened her rather rumpled clothing. Lyta envied the woman her small frame. Black pants and a white shirt appeared to be an unofficial uniform, and then there was that vest, that oversized vest with an endless supply of pockets.  
She had wondered about that vest all the way from Daltron Seven.  
She wondered about it even more when Alina handed it to her.  
"Take good care of this for me," she somberly stated. "Guard it with your life."  
Lyta nodded, gathering her things. "I'll jump down in the hold."  
"I'll let you know when I get back," Alina said, carefully shutting down the ship's systems. "I put in for an expedited departure, so when we're ready to go we should be able to get out of here fast."  
"If that destroyer's here looking for us, we just might need it."

----------

"Identicard, please."  
Alina casually handed the customs officer her identicard. After all, she had no reason to worry. Her identicard was just as valid as anyone else's. It only took a second for the reader to process the card. "How long will you be staying, Miss Stewart?"  
"A few hours," Alina replied. "Just long enough to refuel and get something to eat."  
The customs officer nodded, placing her identicard in the palm of her hand. "Well, enjoy yourself."  
Alina smiled. "Thank you, I just might do that."  
As she stepped away, she noticed another man keeping a close watch over her actions. The momentary sight was just enough for her to catch him telepathically. He was a normal, so he probably wouldn't notice her eavesdropping on his thoughts.  
He was suspicious.  
Of her.  
She slowed her steps, allowing her to home in on the man as he walked over to the customs officer. He got her name from the officer, then turned and headed her way.  
"Miss Stewart!" he called as he jogged up. "Can I talk to you for a second?"  
Alina turned as nonchalantly as she could manage. The man was about six feet tall, with short, dark blonde hair and sincere blue eyes. His black uniform told her that he worked for the Interstellar Alliance. "Yes?" she asked.  
"Zack Allan, ma'am. I'm Head of Station Security. If you have a few minutes, I'd like to talk with you."  
Alina feigned surprise. "Of course. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"  
"No, ma'am. Just a couple of questions, that's all."   
"Certainly. What do you need to know?"  
Zack shifted on his feet. "I'm just curious. It's probably none of my business, but where did you get that ship?"  
Alina shrugged. "Some dealer out near the Emphili homeworld. I bought it about a year ago."  
His expression lit like a candle. "About a year ago? You don't happen to know who sold it to the dealer, do you?"  
"No, why?"  
The candle faded. "Just looking for someone, that's all. Last time I saw her, she was leaving here on a ship just like yours."  
Alina put a hand on Zack's arm, and projected comfort in that touch. She knew the second her fingers made contact that he had been hoping the ship had been Lyta's. "We're all looking for someone, Mister Allan. I'm sorry I can't help you find yours."  
"Ah, it's just wishful thinking anyway. She's not crazy enough to come back here after what we did to her."  
"We? Do I sense a guilty conscience?"  
"Yes, you do."  
Crossing her arms over her chest, Alina decided that maybe Zack Allan could be of help after all. "Well, I've got some time if you want to talk, but I'm looking for someone myself. Is there any way you might help me find him?"  
That brought a smile to his face. "Sure. Come on, we'll go find your friend."  
"Wonderful," she commented, slipping her arm through his as they stepped off.   
"Who are you looking for?" he asked.  
"Well, last I heard, he was with the Rangers."  
Zack whistled. "We've got a lot of Rangers stationed here. What's his name?"  
"Marcus," she said. "Marcus Cole."  
Zack stopped cold in his tracks. "You've got to be kidding me."  
She picked up one word from his mind.  
It took everything she could manage to keep the shock from her expression. "No. Why?"  
Zack shook his head slowly, running one hand through his hair. "Marcus Cole. About this tall," he held his hand out, "black hair, beard?"  
"Gorgeous green eyes, accent like mine. Always in some sort of trouble. Yes, that sounds like him. Is he still here?"  
"Sort of."  
She wanted to ask how he could have still been there if he were dead, but instead asked, "Sort of? How can someone be 'sort of' here?"  
"Come on, I'll show you."  
Zack Allan led her down corridor after corridor, through three different lifts, until they reached what appeared to be a medical facility. He left her at the door and spoke quietly to a small, dark-haired woman wearing medical scrubs. After a few seconds, she nodded, and he returned to Alina.  
"Come on. She'll let us in."  
"Let us in where? Mister Allan, what's happened to him?"  
He remained silent until they entered what appeared to be a cryo room. "It was right after we took back Earth. If anybody knows what happened to him, they're not talking."  
She walked over to the one functioning tube and read the display. "Marcus," she whispered. "If he's dead, what's he doing in here?"  
"Captain Ivanova's last order before her promotion. All I know is that he saved her life after their White Star took heavy damage. She was brought back here in critical condition. After the hit on Mars, he came back here. The next thing anyone knows, she's alive and well. He was by the bed."  
Alina placed her palm flat against the cool black panel, staring at the word 'deceased' in the display. "Nobody saw what happened?"  
"We've got a half-dozen reports that he came into Medlab and tore the place apart looking for something. He knocked out everyone that got in his way. Nobody was conscious when whatever happened happened."  
"Your security cameras didn't pick up anything?"  
"He disabled them."  
She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "That sounds like the Marcus I knew. Very determined. Not even his father could stop him sometimes."  
"How long has it been since you saw him?" Zack asked.  
"A long time," she whispered. "Too long."  
She allowed the silence to linger, placing both palms flat against the cool black of the cryo tube. Reaching back into every ounce of her training, she allowed her mind to flow along the metal, through the coolant pipes, into the bed inside.  
And touched something that frightened her to the core.  
During her rather unorthodox training all those years ago, they had taught her to perform deathbed telepathic scans. She had only done three, but it had been enough to reveal to her the true depths of her talents. She somehow had the ability to reach a person's consciousness when they could not even do it themselves. Her most frightening memory was the idea that one unfortunate soul had thought her to be the Minbari equivalent of the angel of death.  
The sensations she received from Marcus were so similar that chills ran down her spine. It was the slightest contact, but it was enough to convince her that he was not completely gone. He had still been clinging to life when they had stuck him in this thing and declared him dead.  
"In Valen's name," she whispered, breaking the connection. Gathering her composure, she turned to face Zack. "Who put him in here?"  
"Doctor Franklin," he said. "Why?"  
"Where is he? I'd like to talk to him."  
Zack shook his head. "He's not here. He went back to Earth last year."  
"I have to find him. I need to know what happened."  
"He's head of xenobiology at Earthdome. I don't know if it's a secure line or not, but you're welcome to try Stellarcom before you go."  
"Thank you," Alina said, "I may do that. I can't thank you enough for this, Mister Allan. You've been more help than you realize."  
Zack blushed. "All I did was bring you here."  
Alina gave the cryo tube a significant stare. "It was more than enough, trust me."  
"You said it was a long time since you saw him," Zack said. "This is a pretty strong reaction, Miss Stewart. What _was_ he to you?"  
She pulled herself away from the tube, gathering her composure about her. "A very old, very dear friend. We were separated by the Minbari War."  
"You weren't kidding when you said it was a long time, were you?"  
She slowly shook her head. "I don't kid, Mister Allan."  
"Well, you were looking for dinner," he said, obviously forcing himself to smile. "There's a great pizza place in the Zocalo, as long as you don't mind a few unusual toppings."  
"What do you mean by unusual?"  
"Come on, you'll find out when we get there."  
She stopped him before he could reach the door. "Mister Allan?"  
"Yes?"  
"I might be able to help you after all," she said. "All I know is that your friend is alive and well."  
Zack's eyes narrowed. "You know Lyta?"  
She nodded. "I met her. Not long ago."  
"She's okay? Was G'Kar with her?"  
"Yes and no. She's begun travelling on her own. Our paths crossed in the Grand Bazaar on Daltron Seven. I don't know what happened to this G'Kar you're talking about. I've never met him."  
"How long ago was she on Daltron Seven?"  
Alina shrugged. "Two or three weeks ago. Honestly, hyperspace screws up my sense of time."  
"Thank you," Zack said with a sigh. "I was worried about her."  
"I know."  
"You're a telepath," he stated.  
"And you didn't join up with her?"  
"She asked. I haven't really decided yet. Sure you still want to get that pizza?"  
His stomach growled. "That answer your question?"  
She gestured toward the cryo room door. "Lead on."  
Zack headed for the door, turning as he crossed the threshold. "Hey, she didn't happen to say anything about me, did she?"

[End part 2 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	3. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 3

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_February 28, 2264_

Susan dragged herself out of bed with all of the enthusiasm of someone headed for their doom. After all of these years, she still hated mornings.  
Of course, getting up in the morning had gotten exponentially more difficult since she had begun having the dreams.  
Delenn had suggested that they were her mind's way of dealing with the grief. She believed that the dreams had given Susan the chance to say goodbye.  
What Delenn didn't know was that Susan had no intention of doing anything of the kind. The dreams had become her way of keeping him alive.  
"Bridge to the Captain. Approaching jumpgate."  
Susan groaned as she shrugged into a clean uniform. She reached onto the top of her dresser for her link, but brushed against something else instead.  
A Ranger's pin.  
A weary smile crossed her face as she wondered if they had noticed it was missing yet.  
She grabbed her link, placing it on the back of her hand. Her sleep-clouded mind debated whether to answer the call, and thereby acknowledge her existence.  
Arriving at the realization that if she didn't answer soon, they would probably send out a search party, she tapped the link. "I'll be right there. Ivanova out."  
She was standing on the bridge as the Valkyrie left the jumpgate. "Any sign of Emphili ships?"  
"No, Captain."  
Susan nodded. "Okay, keep an eye out. Their captains can get a little nervous. They may not like us hanging around here. You've got the coordinates of the settlement?"  
Her executive officer curtly nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Shuttle's ready for you in Bay One."

----------

The ship settled onto the planet's surface in a haze of steam. It was no wonder Lyta had gone off on her own. Every sensor on the shuttle's environmental panel said that the climate was well beyond the long-term tolerance range for a human being. Too hot, too sunny, too humid.  
"Sounds like the perfect environment for a Narn," Susan told the panel as she reached for her PPG. The Great Maker only knew what kind of animal was just outside the door, waiting on her to leave the ship and become the lunch special.  
She punched up the Valkyrie's map of the settlement, setting the shuttle's scanners on the area around her to see precisely where she had landed. A small white dot appeared on the map just outside the settlement's perimeter, near the small, secluded hut that she was certain belonged to G'Kar. A three-point landing, as usual.  
"Perfect," she said, pulling herself out of the pilot's chair. The gravity was very close to that of Earth, which didn't help as she picked up the heavy supply pack and hefted it onto her back. She was bolstered by the thought that at least she wouldn't be bringing all of the pack's contents back to the shuttle.  
If she was going to grill G'Kar for information, she might as well bring him some of the luxuries of home as payment.  
"Now, I wonder," she muttered, tapping the buttons of her link. As she set up the shuttle's scanners to track her link, she also set up a large portion of the ship's computer as a storage area. She fully intended to fill it with one large data file after this little meeting. Maybe she could even get G'Kar to record it for her.  
When everything was set up, she triggered the hatch and stepped outside.  
"What is this?" she groaned. "The humid level of Hell?"  
It took almost no time for the sweat to begin trickling down her back. A part of her wished she had brought some of her gym clothes on this trip. At least it would have been more comfortable than the white cotton of her uniform shirt.  
"Oh, is it time for a diagnostic on the scanners!" she said, surveying the area. The terrain that surrounded her was somewhat more uneven than the scanners and maps had made it out. She noticed a distinct lack of underbrush, but the ferns that seemed to surround her made up for that. It almost felt as if she were standing in a jungle on Earth, only warmer.  
Much warmer.  
The thought of a jungle made her stop and check her boots and pantlegs for small insects before trudging onward. The last thing her crew needed was for her to bring back some carnivorous alien ant.  
It seemed to take an eternity for her to cross the few meters from the shuttle to her destination.  
"God, I won't have to go to the gym for a month," she said, struggling to get up the steep slope that greeted her just outside the settlement's walls. She couldn't remember being so exhausted. Maybe there was a communication unit nearby. Judging by the brick and mortar wall that stopped about four feet above her head, the settlement didn't seem likely to have that much in the way of technology.  
How was she supposed to get into the place, yell?  
"No," she said to herself, "with my luck, they'd probably just shoot me."  
From behind her came the creaking of a heavy wooden door opening.  
"Hello?"  
Susan almost collapsed at the sound of G'Kar's voice. She attempted to turn around, but the load strapped to her back threw her off-balance. A solid hand to her back stopped her from falling back down the slope.  
"Captain Ivanova? My goodness. Let me take that from you. This hill is not for someone with such a heavy load."  
She attempted to remove the pack, but just removing the strap from one shoulder knocked her off-balance once again. "It's not that. . . . whoa!"  
It took a quick hand to the arm to save her from a tumble down the hill. G'Kar relieved her of the pack when she had regained her balance. He carried it as if it were weightless. "Come in, Captain. You need to rest. You must be dehydrated from the climb. Humans cannot tolerate this environment for very long."  
Susan wiped the sweat from her brow. He was right. Water hadn't sounded so good in months. She nodded, and followed him through the large entry gate.  
The settlement reminded her of something out of an ancient history book. The buildings looked molded out of clay, with dried branches on top for roofing material. Everything around her was a shade of either brown or green. "Desert indians," she whispered.  
"What?"  
She took a deep breath, difficult in the damp air. "Desert indians. Humans used to build houses like this a long time ago. But they lived in the deserts, not jungles."  
"Ah, yes," G'Kar nodded. "I believe I know what you are referring to. Lyta told me stories of her ancestors living in such structures only two centuries ago."  
"Lyta," Susan said. "She isn't here?"  
The Narn scoffed. "No. Even with the biological enhancements the Vorlons gave her, she was still mostly human. She could not live here for very long. We ventured to other places, but I eventually returned here. Ah, here we are."  
G'Kar followed her inside a humble building that appeared to be the settlement's main structure. The shade provided some comfort as she gently lowered herself into a chair made out of stone. When she finally caught her breath, she asked, "How long ago did she leave?"  
"Let me think. We found this sanctuary shortly after our travels had begun. After about a year on your Earth calendar we returned to this place." He gestured toward the building that surrounded them. "Lyta suffered as you suffer, Captain. When I chose to make my home here, I gave her our ship to continue her journey."  
He handed her a bottle that felt as if it had been anywhere but in that heat. "Your water," he said.  
She pulled the top from the bottle and took a long drink. It was water, all right, the purest, coldest, freshest water she had ever tasted. "Thank you, G'Kar," she said, finally pulling the bottle from her lips. "I came here looking for her."  
The Narn scoffed once more. "And here I thought an Earthforce shuttle came looking for me. Why would you be looking for Lyta? She hasn't done anything wrong, has she?"  
"Not yet," Susan said, recovering somewhat. "It's what she _might_ do that's got Earthdome worried."  
"Might do," G'Kar snorted. "Captain, when Lyta joined me on this journey she was an angry person. Angry at Sheridan, your Psi Corps, even the Interstellar Alliance itself. Lyta was furious with the universe and everything that it had done to her. I knew her anger, Captain. I even understood it. But in the year she traveled with me, I saw her change. I saw her discover in herself a capacity for peace that I did not honestly think was possible."  
Susan attempted another deep breath of the humid air as she absorbed the information. "I can understand her anger at the Corps, but why John?"  
The Narn's eyes shot open. "Why Sheridan? You mean you do not see what was done to her?"  
"I know the Vorlons made her a stronger telepath so she could carry Kosh," Susan said. "What else is there to know?"  
"Oh, they did much more than that, Captain. Much more. Have you forgotten that Sheridan carried a part of Kosh with him to Z'ha'dum and back?"  
It took a second for the true weight of G'Kar's words to sink into Susan's mind. "And as far as we know the Vorlons never had him. So, Lyta didn't _need_ what they did to her just to carry Kosh around. They did it for another reason, but what?"  
"What, indeed. After you left Babylon Five her life began to change."  
"I know all about Byron."  
"Do you now?" G'Kar folded his hands in his lap. "So you know the memories that her time with Byron's colony evoked?"  
"Memories?"  
"Captain," the Narn said, leaning closer. "What were our best weapons in our fight against the Shadows? Even better than the White Star fleet?"  
"Telepaths," Susan said. That was when it finally clicked into place. "Byron said the Vorlons created telepaths on every world they could. They were engineered as weapons to fight the Shadows. To take a telepath and make them stronger would be like putting a nuclear warhead on a missile. Instead of just a weapon, you'd have a weapon of mass destruction."  
"Is it any wonder that Z'ha'dum exploded shortly after Lyta entered the area?"  
Susan's eyes bulged. "That's right. When we were looking for John, she must have set off the planet's defenses. Once the Shadows left, the defenses must have gone down and she was able to blow it."  
"She told me about that trip. It was her belief that those defenses had been constructed to ward off any telepathic intrusion."  
"They must have known that the Vorlons would create someone like her."  
G'Kar raised a finger. "Yes, but a thought has concerned me since Lyta went off on her own. What if they created more than one of her?"  
The heat was beginning to get to her. She took another drag from the water bottle. "More than one Lyta?"  
"More than one super-telepath. I have seen Lyta's true power, Captain, and it is terrifying. The idea that there may be more than one of her kind in the galaxy...."  
Susan shook her head. "Somehow I don't think that happened, G'Kar. Whoever it was would have had to get to the Vorlon homeworld and back just like she did. We'd have heard about that."  
"Would we?"  
Susan gave it a moment's thought. "You're right. Damn. I just wish I could understand what she's so mad at John about."  
G'Kar placed a hand over hers. "You do understand. More than you realize. You see, you and Lyta have one vital thing in common."  
"And that is?"  
"Each of you has had someone you care a great deal for sacrifice themselves for a higher purpose, and you have both placed the blame for what happened onto the wrong person."  
Susan's brow furrowed. "What Byron did isn't even in the same league as Marcus. Byron was a martyr, pure and simple."  
"Yes," G'Kar nodded. "I suppose that much is true."  
"You read the reports?"  
"I had a first-person account."  
"Really?" Susan asked, surprised. "From what I read, it doesn't sound like something Lyta would want to talk about."  
G'Kar pulled himself out of the chair. "No, it does not sound like something _you_ would want to talk about."  
"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"  
The Narn stared at her intently. "What it _means_, Captain, is that at this moment you are no better off than Lyta was when she joined me on this journey."  
Susan crossed her arms over her chest. "Sorry, G'Kar, but I'm not carrying around any repressed anger."  
The Narn's eyes widened. "Oh, Lyta wasn't repressing her anger. She was simply directing it at the people she blamed for Byron's death. I had hoped it was not true, but it would appear that you are doing the same thing."  
Susan glared at him. "Doing what?"  
"You blame yourself for Marcus, correct?"  
Her breath caught at the simple statement. "If I'd have been able to stop him, I would have. You have no idea. He still had so much to live for, G'Kar. I mean, where did he get off thinking that _my_ life meant more than his?"  
"There are many different varieties of love, Captain, but it all serves the same higher purpose. Marcus and Byron both gave their lives so that the people they loved most could go on."  
Whether it was a tear that ran down her cheek, or just a bead of sweat, Susan could not tell. "Stephen told you?"  
"I am afraid not. If there is one thing I have learned since I began writing, Captain, it is that the events are what truly tell the story. I have had very few friends who were not Narn, but I was proud to consider Marcus in that group. Naturally, I was curious about his death. Most of it is supposition, of course."  
Susan took a deep breath. She could not believe how fresh the wound still was after two years. Two years of searching for a way back. Two years of living with the 'if only's. If only she had come out of it a few minutes earlier. If only she'd accepted what had been so obvious to everyone else. If only she'd admitted the truth.  
If only she'd done _something_.  
Maybe G'Kar was right. Maybe she did understand Lyta better than she thought.  
Maybe that understanding could help track the telepath down.  
"Did Lyta say where she was going?" she asked.  
G'Kar scowled. "No. She did not."  
Susan's link chose that moment to chirp.  
"Ivanova, go."  
"Captain, we've got a message coming in from Babylon Five. I can pipe the audio down to you."  
"Yes. Let me hear it."  
There was a crackle of static before Susan heard Zack Allan's voice from the small speaker. "Captain?"  
"What have you got, Zack?"  
"We had a visitor who says she was approached by Lyta."  
Susan raised an eyebrow. "She told you that?"  
"Yes, ma'am."  
"Did she say where she ran into her?"  
"Daltron Seven."  
"How long ago?"  
Zack hesitated. "Two or three weeks. She wasn't sure."  
"Then that's where we go next. Anything else?"  
"Something you might be interested in."  
"What?"  
"She was looking for Marcus. Claimed they were old friends."  
Susan's heart stopped for a split second. "What was her name?"  
"Liana Stewart."  
"Zack, can you do me another favor?"  
"Sure, Captain. What?"  
"Pull everything you can on her and send the file to my personal address on the Valkyrie."  
"Already on its way."  
Susan smiled. "You're the best, Zack."  
"Hey, I had great teachers. Babylon Five out."  
Placing the cap back onto the water bottle, Susan handed it back to G'Kar. "I'm sorry, but-"  
"You've got to go. I understand, Captain."  
She reached for the pack. "I did bring you a few things, though."  
The Narn gave a flattered chuckle. "For me? Captain, you didn't have to."  
"Now you tell me," Susan groaned. "Consider it payment for the information on Lyta."  
He placed the pack down as if it had no weight. "There is something else you need to know, Captain. It may affect how she responds once you find her."  
"What?"  
G'Kar pursed his lips. "A part of Lyta's anger was directed at our War Council."  
This took her by surprise. "The War Council? What did _we_ do?"  
"It is precisely what we did _not_ do that angered her, Captain. And it is high time we all began to acknowledge our part in what has occurred since."  
Susan shook her head. "Did _not_ do? I'm sorry, G'Kar, but I don't follow you."  
He reached out and took her hand. "She loved Kosh, Captain. Worshipped him as an idol. After the Vorlons became involved in the War, Kosh changed. He abused Lyta in ways you could never understand. When Kosh was eliminated, she was like a ship without direction. The War Council tried to give her that direction. We used her against the Shadows, just as we used every telepath who would join us. Without her, I dare say we may not have won the wars."  
"You're right," Susan said. "Without her we wouldn't have been able to figure out how effective telepaths were as weapons."  
"Precisely as the Vorlons must have intended her to be used. And I am sorry to say that we, too, treated her as such."  
"What?"  
"When the Vorlons left the galaxy, what became of Lyta? She no longer had a purpose. Her life as she knew it was gone. And to make matters worse, Sheridan tried to take away her home."  
Susan held up a hand. "Now, wait. We needed money to run the station. It was a matter of economics."  
"Was it? She was a rogue telepath. No one would hire her. Do you know what she had to do just to get a job?"  
She shook her head.  
"That which sickened her, Captain. She signed a contract with Bester that took her off of the rogue list."  
Susan's stomach turned. "Talk about making a deal with the devil."  
"Precisely. And we gave her no other choice. Think on this as you search for her, Captain. She was forced to rejoin the Corps because we had no sense of gratitude. She was a civilian, not a warrior like you or I. We presumed too much of her. We all owed her our lives several times over, Captain. We still do. And how do we choose to repay her?"  
"No wonder she's angry," Susan said, her mind whirling with the new information. She could not deny the fact that G'Kar was absolutely right. "Everyone was so afraid of what the Vorlons did to her."  
"We fear most that which we do not understand. Now that you know more, take that knowledge with you on your search. Let it color your actions. After all that has happened to you, Captain, you may be the only person left that she will trust."

[End part 3 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	4. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 4

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 2, 2264_

The rust and white planet that was Mars floated in the darkness in front of them.  
"Where are we landing again?" Alina asked.  
Lyta punched up information in the computer. "Edgars-Garibaldi Industries has a small spaceport on the far side of the main colony. It's about two kilometers out."  
Alina adjusted their course as they slowly began their descent. "Do they know we're coming?"  
Lyta smiled thinly. "Well, I'm a few months early, but I'm sure he won't complain much."

----------

Lyta slowly shook her head as she surveyed the tunnels. Not much had changed in the years since she had last seen these dirt walls. "I can't believe the government didn't shut these down," she said.  
"Well, they wanted to," Michael Garibaldi said as he rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands firmly planted in the pockets of his trousers. His usual smug, but somehow still extremely infectious, grin was plastered across his face. "Once Edgars-Garibaldi Industries made a little land acquisition, they were out of luck."  
Lyta raised an eyebrow. "A little historical preservation?"  
"Philanthropy at its finest."  
"And that fighting force?"  
One hand left the pocket, gesturing toward the corridor before them. "If you ladies will follow me."  
Alina took up step behind Michael as he walked off. Lyta, however, tried to be on the lookout for any sign of a trap. She doubted there was one, but stranger things had a habit of happening, especially when Garibaldi was involved.   
Lyta tried to take comfort in the belief that he needed her alive and well as much as she needed his covert skills. When they had made their little deal, Lyta had been certain of her status as the only telepath capable of holding up her end of the bargain, certain that she had been the only telepath engineered to be a secret weapon for the Vorlons.  
She was not quite so confident anymore.  
In the short time she had known Alina, Lyta had only caught glimpses of the telepath's true abilities. It was enough to reinforce the belief she had had since meeting the small brunette. In all of Lyta's experience, telepaths just were not born with that level of ability. That didn't even take into account the fact that Alina was such a strong telekinetic. No, Alina had to be another Vorlon secret weapon.  
Another telepath with the potential to break Garibaldi's blocks.  
If Alina had truly remained hidden since the Shadow War as she claimed, who was to say that there weren't other telepaths out there who were just as strong? Who knew if Garibaldi hadn't already found one?  
She could always just casually scan Michael, find out what she needed to know the easy way, but that was what had terrified the human race about telepaths to begin with. No, if their struggle was to have any chance of success, she had to avoid casually scanning _anyone_ at all.   
If that had to start with her being in the dark about Garibaldi, then so be it.  
"Ladies," Michael said, stopping in a larger chamber. "Welcome to your new HQ."  
Lyta could sense Alina's amazement at the sight of their new headquarters. It matched her own. She counted fifteen people manning workstations around the room. All looked relaxed in their positions, which Lyta found quite comforting. She counted a dozen computer screens that had been set into the walls. They displayed what looked to her to be securecam data. It reminded her a little of the old War Room back on Babylon Five, except this one was dirtier. "Won't the power for these stations-?"  
"Paid for by the company. We're putting a small research facility right over you, so the power use should go unnoticed."  
"What if it _is_ noticed?"  
Michael raised an eyebrow. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry."  
Alina looked up from a console. "How much of the underground area is covered by securecam?"  
"Everything within a five kilometer radius." Michael stepped over to the console beside Alina and flipped a switch. The displays beside him began to change, each screen displaying a different camera angle for a few seconds, then changing to another view. "If it hasn't got a camera, it's got an alarm system. Not even Tessa Halloran could get into this place without major explosives or a full-scale assault team."   
Lyta and Alina exchanged looks. "Tessa Halloran?"  
"Number One," Michael said.  
Lyta nodded. "Are those the access tunnels from when she ran the place, or is that another little gift from the company?"  
"Just call me Santa," Michael cracked. "All of the old ones are blocked up. Every way in here has been dug in the last six months."  
"So, when do I get to meet with the government rep?"  
"This evening."  
Lyta could not help but smile. This was working out far better than she had planned. "How many people in all?" she could not resist asking.  
Michael touched the screen closest to him, then scrolled through a list. "Well, looks like we're up over three hundred right now."  
"Three hundred? In a year?" Lyta asked, stunned. She hadn't expected so many of her scattered telepaths to find the new headquarters so quickly.  
"That's just yesterday's count," Michael said. "We're getting more people coming in by the day."  
"How many are rogue telepaths?"  
"About ninety percent."  
Alina turned. "We've got two hundred and seventy rogue telepaths hiding in the Corps' backyard?"  
Michael's grin expanded. "Poetic, isn't it?"  
"Who's our strongest teep?" Lyta asked.  
"That would be me," a voice from behind Lyta said. She turned to find a man standing in the tunnel she had just left. He held the laser torch in his hand as if he were very comfortable with it. He ran his free arm across his forehead, wiping some of the sweat and grime out of what looked to be dark blonde hair. The sheer strength of his presence belied his compact build. The mix of sincerity and skepticism in his eyes reminded her somewhat of Zack. There was an air of authority about him, and Lyta knew in an instant that he had been the person in charge of this small unit until this moment. He introduced himself as Andrew Keene.  
"Mister Keene," Lyta said, "I take it Mister Garibaldi has filled you in on everything that is happening here?"  
He sat the torch on an empty table, stepping toward the women. "You guys are taking on the Corps. That's all I needed to know."  
"We can trust you?" Alina asked.  
"I think the question is, can I trust you?"  
"How strong are you?"  
"What?"  
"What's your rating?"  
"High P12."  
Alina turned a raised eyebrow toward Lyta. "We've got a rogue Psi Cop?"  
"I wasn't a Cop."  
"You claim to be a P12," Lyta said. "If you're telling the truth, you _had_ to be a Psi Cop."  
"Did I?" Keene asked. "The Corps _did_ have desk jobs, you know."  
Lyta felt Alina's mistrust of what she was hearing.  
"Will you submit to a scan?" the brunette asked.  
"Ladies, ladies," Garibaldi interjected. "The guy's clean. He's telling the truth. I checked it out myself. Besides, he's been here since the beginning. If he was going to turn this operation over to the Corps, he'd have done it by now."  
"Would he?" Lyta asked. "The Corps could have made up all of the documentation he needed to prove the story, Michael. He could just as easily have been waiting on us to show up. The only real test is to scan him."  
"You can trust me," Keene stated, nodding toward Lyta. "But, I understand. According to the files, you're nothing more than a P5. Who's going to do the scan?"  
Alina turned toward her, grinning. "I'm going to let _you_ take care of this one."  
Lyta's smile thinned as she stepped toward Keene. "Mister Keene, I have one piece of advice for you. _Never_ believe the Psi Corps."  
She stared intently into Keene's blue eyes, walking right into his mind as if no blocks had been set in place. His surprise at the strength of the scan came to the forefront, but she passed it by in favor of more lucrative information. She could read his thoughts like a book, and decided to skim through to the last year of his life. She saw him wearing the same style of navy blue business suit that she had seen on human businessmen throughout her travels of late. No black uniform. The Psi Corps shield rested on his lapel. She could feel the gloves sliding onto his hands, the dread of another day at his job. Another day of rogue telepath paperwork. Another day of trying not to wish his name was on those papers.  
Another day of having to face that man.  
"Bester," she whispered.  
An argument materialized before her, an argument with a Psi Cop by the name of Alfred Bester. Bester threatened Keene. Threatened to put his family on the sleepers if he didn't cooperate.  
Cooperate with what?  
Lyta could feel that Keene had planned to escape the Corps, a plan that set off warning bells in her mind. She didn't sense a telepathic scan in Keene's memory, but that meant nothing when it came to Bester. Sure, Bester had been good at subtlety many years ago, but if the telepathic blocks he had put into Garibaldi's brain were any indication, the little weasel was getting almost brazen about his power.  
That was when she saw Keene's family fleeing from Marsdome in bulky environment suits that barely protected them from the Martian dust storms. Breather masks that did nothing to help his gasping for breath as he ran over sand dune after sand dune.  
The bloodhound units that had tracked them.  
The agony as he felt his wife's death.  
The terror as his young daughter stared down the barrel of a PPG rifle.  
The knowledge that he had been the only survivor.  
She pulled back, confident that what she was seeing was the truth. When she focussed on his face once more, she noticed a tear streaking through the grime on his cheek. "I'm sorry," was all she could whisper.  
"Don't be," he said. "I just want to be there when you take down that son of a bitch."  
"You will be," Lyta stated. "If there's anything I can do about it, you _will_ be."  
"Excuse me," Garibaldi said. "Is there anyone here _without_ a vendetta against Bester?"  
Alina waved a hand. "I don't even know who you're talking about."  
This surprised Lyta. "You don't? How long were you on Daltron Seven?"  
"About two years. I went there right after Earth fell to President Sheridan."  
"What about before that?" Garibaldi asked. "During the Shadow War we were looking for telepaths like you."  
"You had me, Mister Garibaldi. I left the Rangers when I went to Daltron Seven."  
"Delenn let you go?" he asked.   
Alina's eyes turned troubled. "Lennier said she was mourning a friend."  
"Friend of yours?"  
"Yes," she said, giving the word an air of finality.  
Almost as if it were punctuating her words, a rumble began in the tunnel floor.  
"What's that?" Lyta asked.  
Keene steadied his balance, then gave her a worried look. "Feels like a cave in somewhere."  
Alina closed her eyes for a few moments, then pointed at one of the tunnels. "That way."  
Michael scrolled through displays on one workstation until he found the site. "She's right." He put a message through the unit, then bolted off down the tunnel with Lyta, Alina and Keene in tow.  
When they reached the site, a small mountain of red rock that blocked the tunnel to its ceiling greeted them.  
"Dig crew is on its way," Garibaldi said.  
"Was anything on the other side of this?" Lyta asked.  
Michael shook his head. "Empty bunk rooms. Nobody's moved in yet."  
Lyta stared intently at the rock. "Somebody's in there."  
"Can't be," Keene said. "This tunnel was supposed to be cleared."  
"Well, it's not." Lyta felt something inside her beginning to take control. Her vision slowly changed until everything around her was bathed in shades of gray.  
"Where are you picking it up?" Alina asked, stepping around Keene.  
Keene backed away as Lyta turned to look at them. "About five meters ahead," Lyta said. "Very weak."  
Alina nodded, stepping up beside the redhead. "I'll follow you in."  
Lyta was surprised when Alina did just that. The brunette latched onto Lyta's telepathic line, following it to the source of the feeling.  
"Stand back," Alina said.  
The men moved back, half because of the warning, half out of utter shock.  
"What are you going to do?" Lyta asked.  
"It's a child, Lyta. I'm going to bring her out."  
Lyta turned a slow stare onto Alina. "You can do that?"  
"Watch and learn."  
Lyta did just that, and was happy to see color slowly return to her vision. She took careful note as Alina adjusted her breathing, still staring at the mountain of rock.  
Then everything began to move.  
The sounds of rocks falling into a gap filled the tunnel. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. Alina's closed eyes began to quiver as if she were sleeping.  
"What's she doing?" Garibaldi asked. "Lyta?"  
The redhead shook her head. "I see it, but I don't believe it."  
Rocks at the base of the small mountain slowly began to shift.  
"Everybody back!" Keene shouted.  
"No," Lyta said. "Look!"  
Rock after rock began moving aside until a small tunnel was formed. With a delicate slowness the injured child, a little girl, came sliding out of that tiny space. Red dirt was clotted around a wound on her forehead. She was curled on her side with her arms folded around her knees. Cuts and scrapes covered her exposed skin. Lyta reached a hand toward the girl's dirty face. The poor thing could not have been more than five years old.  
When the child was free of the rocks, Alina collapsed to the ground. Keene was beside her in an instant, but she tried to wave him off. "I'm okay," she said. "But, whatever you do, don't move her right now. She's got internal injuries and a severe head wound. Does this dump have a doctor around?"  
Garibaldi nodded. "Just to be safe, I called him when I called the dig crew. He should be here any second."  
The little girl took a gasping breath before a coughing fit racked her body. It didn't take long for Lyta to be in sympathy with the child. It looked as if every cough seized her with pain. When the hacking finally subsided, the child began to softly whimper. Lyta tried to brush the dust off of the girl's face. "Honey, it's going to be okay."  
"It hurts," the little girl moaned.  
"I know," Alina answered, slowly crawling across the tunnel floor to where the child lay. "The rocks hurt you, didn't they?"  
The girl tried to nod, but abruptly stopped.  
"Honey," Lyta said. "What's your name?"  
"Kelly."  
"Well, Kelly, you've got one heck of a bump on your head," Alina stated. The exhaustion was evident in her voice, but the brunette managed to keep it out of her expression. "But, I think you're going to be all right."  
"You a doctor?" Kelly asked.  
Alina turned a guilty look to Lyta. "Well, actually, yes."  
"You're a doctor?" Garibaldi asked. "Why did you ask if we had one?"  
"Do I _look_ like I can properly take care of her right now, Mister Garibaldi? She needs help, but right now I can't give her the care she needs. She needs two people right now, a doctor and her mother. If you want to help, you can go find them."  
He turned to Lyta, who just raised one red eyebrow and said, "You heard her, Michael. Go."  
Michael nodded, and vanished back down the corridor.  
"How did you do that?" Lyta asked.  
Alina braced herself against Keene as she tried to sit up. "Old telekinetic's trick," she replied. "If this is any indication, I may have to teach it to a few people."  
"Can I be first on that list?"  
Alina nodded. "But, I didn't think you were a telekinetic."  
Lyta smiled. "A little gift from the Vorlons."  
Alina pressed a hand to Kelly's head, close to the wound. "Kelly, you're going to feel a little tingle, but it's going to make your head better, okay?"  
"Okay."  
Alina adjusted her breathing once again, closing her eyes as her palm rested around the curve of Kelly's skull. "No skull fracture. This I can take care of."  
"Are you sure?" Keene asked.  
"She has a concussion. That's going to have to heal itself. The gash in her forehead I can handle."  
"Watch and learn?" Lyta asked.  
"Watch and learn," Alina smiled. "Mister Keene, if you could be so kind as to keep holding me up?"  
Keene shifted position, until he was crouched behind Alina. "I'll be right here."  
"Now, Kelly, tell me when you feel that tingle, all right?"  
Kelly tried to nod, but the pain stopped any movement. "Okay," she whispered.  
Alina moved her palm so it hovered over the gash. Lyta felt the focus of a great deal of energy through that hand. She could only remember feeling something similar once before, right after she had helped her Kosh assassinate the last Vorlon ambassador to Babylon Five. It was the sensation that a vast amount of energy was being used to heal. This was a trick Lyta desperately wanted to learn.  
"I feel it," Kelly said. Her voice even sounded stronger.  
"Good," Alina whispered. "It won't be long, now."  
Before Lyta realized it was over, Alina moved her palm away from Kelly's head and turned to Keene. There was no visible difference in the little girl's condition. "Garibaldi said these were empty bunks," Alina said. "Have water pumps been installed yet?"  
Keene nodded. "About ten meters back in the tunnel."  
Lyta was on her feet before Alina turned around. "I'll get it."  
"Get something to wash her face with," Alina called as Lyta stepped away.  
She walked the ten meters and came to a small faucet. Water was almost as scarce on Mars as it was on the Moon, but when she considered that Edgars-Garibaldi Industries was footing the bill, it wasn't surprising to see a few simple luxuries here and there. A few seconds of hunting netted her a small, relatively clean pail and a rag that wasn't covered in too much red dust. She could hear Garibaldi's voice in the tunnel as she finished filling the pail.   
"They're right down here, Doc," Michael said as he passed Lyta. "Minette's a doctor, too."  
The camp's doctor was a younger man, Lyta figured him for less than thirty years of age at best. He stood about a head shorter than Garibaldi, with shoulder-length, curly hair that was just a shade shy of the red dirt that surrounded them. "Then why isn't she tending to the patient?" he asked.  
"It took everything she had just to get her out of the rubble," Lyta interrupted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, they're waiting for this water."  
She edged her way around the doctor and Garibaldi, arriving back with Keene, Alina and Kelly just seconds ahead of the two men. "Here," she said, handing Alina the pail and cloth.   
The small brunette looked so fragile. It took Keene's help just to get her into a sitting position. Her dark green eyes raised to the man with Garibaldi. "The camp doctor, I presume?"  
"Yes," he said. "I take it you're Minette?"  
The dig crew entered the tunnel as Alina dropped one of the rags into the pail. "Yes. This is Kelly. She's got a concussion and what feel to me like three broken ribs. One is a little too close to her lung for my liking."  
Alina wiped the wet rag over the girl's head. Lyta's eyes shot open as the dirt and blood were washed away, revealing perfect flesh without even a scar. She heard Keene's breath catch.  
"How'd you do that?" Keene asked.  
"Old telekinetic's trick," Alina quipped, turning toward the camp doctor. "I'm too weak to do any more for her. Move her, and you could puncture her lung."  
"Leave her here and I can't set those ribs," the doctor replied.  
Keene's eyes darted between the women. "We could keep her here until Alina gets her energy back. Could we move her then?"  
Garibaldi shook his head. "And if this tunnel goes in the meantime, this is a pretty pointless argument."  
The sound of tiny rocks falling echoed through the tunnel.  
Lyta felt something almost telepathic brush against her defenses. She instantly knew that her abilities were being measured. She also knew it was Alina taking the numbers.   
"Okay," Alina sighed. "Get something _stable_ in here to take her out on. No stretchers. Are there any _low_ tables in this place that have wheels?"  
"How low?" Keene asked.  
"The lower the better."  
Lyta followed Alina's gaze over to where the dig crew was quietly working on making a molehill out of the mountain of red dirt. Behind them were three low carts. Only one was empty, but from where Lyta stood it looked just big enough to carry Kelly. "That'll do," Lyta said.  
Alina nodded. "Yes. We should be able to lift her that high without too much risk."  
"You just said if we moved her we'd puncture a lung," the doctor said.  
"I know of a way that we can control the move," Alina said, her eyes turning to Lyta. "But right now I can't do it alone."  
Lyta nodded. "Just tell me what to do."  
"Can you reach in and see the broken ribs?"  
"What?"  
Alina pursed her lips. "I'll take that as a no. Damn. All right. Can you follow a telekinetic contact?"  
"I think so."  
"Good. I'll guide you in. We're going to hold the broken ribs in place while she's lifted into the cart. If it's as stable as it looks, she should be okay from there on."  
The sounds of another rockslide came from deeper in the tunnel.  
"We don't have a lot of time," Garibaldi said.  
"Then we do it now," Alina stated. Her eyes slowly closed, and Lyta felt that same energy flowing out of the small woman's body. She felt the energy seep into Kelly's tiny body. It took a few moments for the connection to stabilize, allowing Lyta to follow the thin telekinetic thread.  
Lyta's copper eyes closed, and images came alive in her mind. She saw Kelly's thin body, the individual layers of her skin, muscle tissue, nerves, tendons, and finally the broken fragments of bone. It was a frightening three-dimensional anatomy lesson. "I see the break," she whispered.  
"Good," Alina answered.  
With Alina's words came a change in the telekinetic energies being used. Lyta felt those energies form a barrier between the jagged edges of the broken bones and the fragile tissue of Kelly's lung. It was a weak barrier, one Lyta immediately threw all of the energy she could spare into reinforcing.  
"Lift her," Alina directed. "Now."  
Someone did as they were told, and Lyta was forced to strengthen her hold on Kelly's broken ribs. It took a surprising amount of energy just to hold the bones in place for the few seconds it took to get Kelly into the cart. Her body sagged, but someone thought quickly and put their hands under her shoulders. She felt her knees weaken, and the person's grasp became stronger.  
"She's in the cart," Keene's voice said.  
Lyta could not hear Alina's voice, but felt the instruction to slowly release her hold on the child. She followed Alina's lead, helping to temporarily set Kelly's ribs into position.  
Lyta had the utmost confidence in their procedure until, without any warning whatsoever, Alina's energies vanished.   
She heard Keene's voice repeating Alina's name.  
Lyta gently released her hold on Kelly, praying to the Great Maker that nothing would happen when they tried to move that cart out of there.  
The hands continued to hold her upright. Her telekinetic abilities freed, she reached out telepathically and met very familiar territory. "Thanks, Michael," she said as she opened her eyes.  
"You going to be okay?" he asked.  
Lyta nodded. "Just a little weak. That takes a lot out of you."  
"You, maybe," Michael scoffed, tilting his head toward where Keene was hovering over an unconscious Alina. "You think she's going to be okay?"  
"Telepathically, she's just out cold," Keene replied.  
Michael turned toward the camp doctor. "What about physically?"  
"Been a while since I've seen anything like that," the doctor replied. "Looks like an extreme case of exhaustion. I've got everything to treat it back in the Infirmary."  
Lyta looked around at the empty cavern. "Kelly's got the only cart. How do we get her back?"  
"Easy," Keene said, lifting Alina's unconscious body in both arms. "I'll meet you guys there."

[End part 4 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	5. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 5

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 2, 2264_

Alina's eyes opened to a dark red ceiling that looked suspiciously like the insides of her eyelids. She tried again, with the same result. When she was certain that her eyes were not lying, that they were truly open, she attempted to turn her head. Every motion resulted in a bone-deep ache that made her wonder precisely what stunt had landed her in this condition.   
A small child's cough brought her back to reality with a resounding crash.  
"Kelly. How-?" she rasped. Her arms wanted to push herself up from whatever she was laying on, but the energy to do it just was not there. "What happened?" she whispered.  
"You passed out," a voice softly reminded her. "You're in the Infirmary."  
"How did I-?"  
"I brought you in right behind Kelly."  
Ignoring the pain, she turned her head toward the voice and found Andrew Keene sitting beside the bed. He had washed up somewhat since the cave in, but was still wearing the same dark work clothes. From their rather rumpled look, he appeared to have slept in them. "How long?" she asked.  
"Eighteen hours."  
"How's Kelly?"  
Keene stood, leaning against the bedside. "Doctor Carpenter says her ribs are going to take a bit to heal, but she's going to be okay. Thanks to you. Her mother's ready to nominate you for sainthood."  
"Where _is_ her mother?" she asked, choosing to ignore the flattery in his voice.  
"Over with Kelly. They've both been sleeping for hours."  
"How long before Carpenter's going to let me out of here?"  
"Tomorrow, maybe."  
Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe?"  
"You're a doctor. Would _you_ release a patient in your condition?"  
She raised one eyebrow. "Point made. Where's Lyta?"  
"Sleeping, I think. It _is_ three in the morning."  
"Did she get a chance to talk to the government reps yet?"  
Keene nodded. "This afternoon."  
"What's the word?"  
"They'll work with us as much as they can, but if we get caught by the Corps or Earthgov, we're on our own."  
Alina smiled. "Wonder how long it took her to convince them to come that far?"  
"Well, she said that once she reminded them that Mars wouldn't have become independent without her, it didn't take long at all."  
"At least we don't have to worry about hiding from the government."  
Keene pursed his lips. "Everybody except you."  
"What? Have you been awake too long?"  
He yawned. "Now that you mention it."  
"I'm too tired for this, Mister Keene. If you won't explain yourself, please let me go back to sleep."  
"Go back to sleep," he soothed. "You've got enough to worry about right now just getting well."  
She slowly curled onto her side, her back toward him, in an attempt at slumber. It took mere seconds before thoughts began to nag at the back of her mind. "Mister Keene?" she asked.  
"Andrew," he corrected.  
"All right. Andrew. Why are you sitting at my bedside at three in the morning?"  
"It was my turn," he stated.  
Alina sighed. "Of course."  
"Can I ask you a question?"  
"As long as I don't have to move, yes."  
She heard movement, and was not surprised when he walked around the bed to face her. What she did find amusing was the sight of him carrying his chair over to the new side of the bed, sitting so they were still at eye level.   
"How did you do that?" he asked.  
"Do what?"  
His blue eyes darkened. "You know what I mean. Pulling Kelly out of that rubble, that's something I've seen a few high-level telekinetics do before. But healing her? Who taught you that?"  
"Certainly wasn't the Psi Corps, was it?"  
"Shadows wanted telekinetic assassins, not doctors."  
"You just answered your own question," she whispered.  
His brow furrowed. "How? Seems to me like assassins are the polar opposite of doctors."  
"They are. Just like the Shadows had their opposites."  
His eyes shot open. "The Vorlons? You were trained to heal people by the Vorlons?"  
"Indirectly. The Minbari actually trained me, but they used Vorlon techniques. At least, they _said_ they were Vorlon techniques," she replied, fighting to keep her emotions out of her voice.  
"I didn't realize the Rangers trained doctors," he mused.  
"They don't," she stated, backing it with a glare that suggested he press no further.  
He took the hint. "So what are you doing here?"  
"Recovering."  
The corners of his lips perked up. "Very funny. Seriously, why did someone with your talent join up with Lyta?"  
Alina rolled onto her back, surprised by the lack of pain involved. Something was causing her to regain her strength faster than ever before. It was enough to trigger her paranoia. "It's been a long time since I've been able to trust anybody," she softly said. "Why should I trust you?"  
"All right," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "How about I answer the same question?"  
"Love to hear it."  
"I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it when she scanned me."  
She quirked an eyebrow. "I try not to listen in on other people's scans when I can help it. So, tell me, what did Bester do to you?"  
Keene's gaze fell to the ground. "Took it all away."  
"You weren't alone. The Corps took a lot of children away from their parents."  
"No," he said, "that's not it. Bester -- he wanted something I just couldn't give him."  
"So, he took it all away?"  
"All of it."  
His pain was evident in far more than his closed expression. It seeped through her weakened telepathic defenses like water through a threadbare cloth. "What did he want?" she asked.  
"He wanted me to give it up. Be his little genetic puppet."  
Alina's brow furrowed. "What?"  
"You know about the Corps' arranged marriages?"  
She shook her head.  
"You don't?"  
She could feel shock begin to overcome the pain. Maybe explaining it all to her would do him some good. "No, and why is a long story for another time. I take it the Corps arranges the marriages so that stronger telepaths produce stronger children?"  
He gave her a brief nod. "You get the idea. Well, amazingly enough, I actually fell in love with the woman they wanted me to marry. She was a P9, I'm a P12. Alexandra, that's our daughter, she was a P11."  
"So, the theory works?"  
"Most of the time. But, about a year ago, Bester found this Psi Cop recruit. She was a high P12."  
"Let me guess, he wanted you to divorce your wife and join with her?"  
His lips perked at the corners. "You _sure_ you're too weak to scan me?"  
"Yes," she dryly replied. "From what I've heard about that man, and I use that word loosely, the idea fits. So, being a person with morals, you refused?"  
"Of course."  
Alina grimaced, finally beginning to understand where the story was leading. "And since you wouldn't leave your wife and daughter, Bester chose to eliminate the problem?"  
"He threatened to. Said he'd put them on the sleepers if I didn't cooperate."  
"Sleepers?"  
He gave her an incredulous look. "You don't know about the sleepers, either?"  
"I think I might have, but it was a _very_ long time ago."  
"I want to hear this long story sometime, agreed?" he asked, leaning an elbow onto the bed.  
She nodded. After this, she actually might owe it to him. "Just let me get back on my feet first, figure out what's going on in the present before I try to sort out the past."  
"Deal," he said. "Let's just say that the sleepers are this wonderful little drug that basically turns telepaths into walking zombies. They've been using it for years to control teeps that won't join the Corps. Some of the reports that crossed my desk talked about people who'd committed suicide after about a year. Not too many people adjust to them well."  
She could not hide her disgust. "And he threatened to do this to your family if you didn't leave them?"  
He nodded.  
"What about genetic engineering?"  
Keene shuddered. "He wouldn't go for that. I think it's a power trip for him."  
"Shame you didn't kill the little bastard," she said.  
"Trust me, right now I wish I had."  
"So, what _did_ you do?"  
His eyes dropped from hers again. "We escaped."  
"You escaped? I didn't see any transport tubes as we flew in. How did you get here?"  
"Walked."  
"You walked across that surface?"  
He took a deep breath. "I found three old environment suits that I didn't think anyone would miss. One was even small enough for Alex. One night, the three of us took a walk. I knocked out the airlock guards, and we got in the suits and went outside. We managed to get a kilometer out from the Dome before the troops were called in."  
She smiled. "You must have hit them pretty hard."  
"Being a P12 helps," he said. "Anyway, I never realized how hard it is to run in an environment suit. They had a transport after us in no time. I'm still not sure how I managed to hide, but I know they killed Renee and Alex."  
"How?"  
He lifted his eyes back to hers, and the pain in them stabbed at her like a dagger. "I felt it," he whispered.  
Alina swallowed, not sure of what she could say next. A part of her cursed the Vorlons for creating telepaths in the first place, but a part of her also grudgingly thanked them. She could only imagine what kind of doubts would have been going through Keene's mind if he hadn't known that his family was dead.  
Then again, if the Vorlons had never created human telepaths, none of them would have been in this mess. The universe would have no Psi Corps to terrorize it. Okay, maybe that would have been a blessing.  
Of course, if the Vorlons hadn't created telepaths, the Shadows might have won the War.  
It was definitely a tradeoff.  
She slid her arm down from its resting place on her hip, her fingers coming to rest on the curve of his elbow. She knew the risks that came with physical contact, but didn't care. A long time ago, when her family had still been alive, physical contact was actually comforting. She hoped the trend still existed. "I'm going to make you the same promise Lyta did," she said, fighting the emotions that were barraging her telepathically. "If I can help it, you _will_ be there when we get Bester. If anyone has a right to help us bring him down, it's you."  
He managed to push the pain into a corner. "Thank you. Now, what about you? Why are _you_ here?"  
"I go where I'm needed," she shrugged.  
"And believe me, from what I saw earlier, she's needed here," Michael Garibaldi's voice sounded from the door. "We can use all of the help we can get."  
Alina pulled her hand away from Keene, more embarrassed at the fact that she hadn't sensed Garibaldi's presence than anything else. "Mister Garibaldi. Is this just exquisite timing, or did you know I was awake?"  
"I told him," Lyta said, following Garibaldi into the room.  
"And how did you know? Never mind. Why do I have the distinct feeling there's a conspiracy against me around here," Alina dryly remarked. "And what, pray tell, has brought the two of you to my bedside at three in the morning?"  
Garibaldi gestured toward Lyta. "After you."  
The redhead smiled at Keene. "You told her about the meeting?"  
"Yes, he did," Alina interjected. "And something about me being the only one who had to worry about hiding from the government. Are you going to explain that, or am I going to have to waste what little energy I actually have scanning someone?"  
"Well," Lyta said, hesitating. "You're probably not going to like this."  
"Probably?" Garibaldi cracked.  
Lyta shot him a look, then turned back to Alina. "We got clearance from the Mars government, but it was conditional."  
Alina attempted to nod. "We don't get caught. What's that have to do with me?"  
"That wasn't the only condition," Lyta said. "They wouldn't go along with it unless I got out of the picture."  
"You can't leave here, Lyta. We can't win this without you."  
The redhead nodded. "I know, and I'm not going anywhere. I fully intend to head up this outfit for as long as possible. We just need to make the government _think_ I've stepped down."  
Alina swallowed hard, getting the general idea of what was happening. "And you need someone the Corps doesn't know about, right?"  
Lyta nodded. "It's just for the public. Down here, nothing will change."  
Alina lay back against the bed, staring intently at the red dirt in the ceiling. "Well, I suppose fifteen years is long enough to hide."  
"Fifteen years?" Garibaldi asked. "You've hid from the Corps for fifteen years?"  
"Yes, Mister Garibaldi."  
"How?"  
Alina turned her eyes to him. "Ask me again some other time."  
Garibaldi turned to Lyta, who simply shrugged. "I don't know, either, Michael. I've never heard of anyone hiding for that long."  
Alina felt Keene's hand touch hers.  
*The Minbari, right?*  
*Yes.*  
His brow furrowed. *But, fifteen years ago-*  
*Was the end of the Earth-Minbari War. I know.*  
"All right, I'll do it," Alina stated. "I just want to go on record that I _don't_ like the idea of being a walking target, however."  
Garibaldi chuckled. "From what I've seen and heard today, lady, that would be impossible."  
"Nothing is impossible, Mister Garibaldi," Alina countered. "That much I know for certain."  
"She's right," Keene added, turning toward Lyta. "Yesterday, I would have said the two of you were impossible. The Corps tried for years to induce telekinesis in high-level teeps. They failed every time. What happened to the two of you?"  
Lyta shrugged. "The Vorlons. By the time I really had an idea of what had happened to me, they were gone. The fact that they created human telepaths isn't exactly a secret anymore. A few years ago they took me in. They were the ones who made me stronger."  
"What about you, Alina?"  
"Sorry," she cracked. "No grand adventures here. I've been a telepath for as long as I can remember."  
Lyta's jaw dropped. "You mean you've been at this strength since _birth_?"  
"Since I was five, actually."  
"And you've never been to the Vorlon homeworld?"  
Alina shook her head. "Not unless my parents took a side trip they never told me about."  
"If it's any help," Keene offered, "the Corps _was_ seeing a slow increase in the natal levels of telepaths right before the Shadow War. But, the telepath with the highest naturally-occurring rating we had on record was only a P14, and she wasn't telekinetic at all."  
Lyta leaned against the bed. "I think it's probably a safe bet that the Vorlons had a hand in it."  
"Hell, _I_ wouldn't bet against you," Garibaldi said. "Stephen, maybe, but not me."  
Lyta laughed. "Franklin? Never."  
Before she realized that she was doing it, Alina's hand latched onto Garibaldi's arm in a death grip. "You _know_ Stephen Franklin?"  
"Well, yes," Garibaldi said, staring at her hand.  
"_Doctor_ Stephen Franklin, used to be stationed on Babylon Five?" Alina implored, daring to get her hopes up for the first time since they had left the station. "Do you have a way that I can contact him?"  
"Yes. He's an old buddy of mine," he said, warily eyeing her fingers. "What do you need to get in touch with him for?"  
Alina slowly released her grip. "It's about an old buddy of _mine_."  
"The one from the station?" Lyta asked.  
"Yes. From what I could tell, Stephen Franklin is one of only two people that can tell me what happened to him."  
Garibaldi's eyes darkened. "Who told you only two people knew what happened?"  
"Station security," Alina said. "A man named-"   
"Zack Allan," Garibaldi and Lyta simultaneously stated.  
Garibaldi visibly tensed. "Please tell me he didn't say the other person was Ivanova."  
"He did."  
"Marcus," he stated, turning toward Lyta. "Has to be him."  
The redhead nodded. "I know Susan knows what happened, but do you think Stephen-?"  
Garibaldi shrugged. "Considering how moody he got after Marcus died, I'll bet he knew."  
"Everyone is throwing around that word as if it were the truth," Alina cracked. "What I saw was very close, but not quite there yet."  
Lyta's eyes bulged. "You _saw_ him? Nobody's seen him for two years!"  
"That's because it appears that Mister Garibaldi's 'old buddy' slipped him into a cryo tube before anyone knew what happened."  
"You could contact him in a cryo tube?" Lyta asked.  
"He's not a telepath, so I couldn't make full contact, but it was enough to know that there's still somebody home in there."  
Garibaldi shook his head. "Stephen knew what happened, all right. I'll bet he also knew that Marcus was still alive. No matter what Ivanova said, he wouldn't have wasted the resources to put him in there if there weren't _some_ hope of bringing him back."  
"Susan," Lyta whispered. "My God, how do we tell _her_?"  
"We don't," Alina flatly stated. "Lyta, I know he's still alive in there. The problem is what would happen if he were taken out. You have no idea how difficult it is to keep the -- well, for lack of a better word, life-force -- within the body when they're that close to death. I've only seen something like that attempted once, and it didn't work."  
Keene touched her hand. "What would it take to get it to work?"  
Alina shook her head. "I don't know. When I saw it tried, there were nine very strong telekinetics, as well as nine strong telepaths. All specially trained. Like I said, that didn't work."  
Lyta turned to Keene. "How many teeks do we have?"  
"Not many," he said. "Twenty, maybe thirty tops."  
"Got to be better than nine. Alina, can you train them for something like this?"  
Alina could not believe what she was hearing. "We're in the middle of waging a war here and you're talking about training someone to possibly damage another person's life-force? Knowledge is power, Lyta. Do we really want that kind of power floating around where the Corps could get their hands on it?"  
Lyta raised an eyebrow. "You're right. Hell. Michael, if you see her, you can't tell Susan _anything_ that was just said, okay? She might know you're keeping something from her, but you can't say a word. It's for her own good."  
Garibaldi nodded. "Like the last thing any one of us needs is Ivanova mad at us."  
"We still should look into it," Keene said, pulling Alina's attentions to him. "I don't know who this Ivanova is, but from the sound of it they were close."  
Lyta smiled wistfully. "You have no idea. Hell, _she_ had no idea."  
Alina managed a small laugh. "That sounds like Marcus, all right. I've met Minbari acolytes who weren't as shy as that one."  
"We need a plan here," Lyta said. "If it's possible to pull this off, how do we do it?"  
"You guys worry about the war. Let me work on Marcus," Alina said. "But it's going to take a _lot_ of time. Mister Garibaldi, if you could manage to get me a secure connection to Minbar, that would help."  
Garibaldi nodded. "Don't think that will be a problem. I'll see what I can do."  
Lyta placed a hand on Alina's shoulder. "If there's anything I can do for this, all you have to do is say the word. I didn't know him very well, but I do know what losing him did to Susan and Delenn. They treated me like a human being when nobody else would. I owe them for that."  
"If we can pull this off," Keene said with a soft laugh, "I'm nominating all of us for godhood."  
"It's a Vorlon technique," Alina countered. "If we can pull this off, we'll have earned it." 

[End part 5 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	6. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 6

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 24, 2264_

"It's a dead-end, John. All I know is that from here Liana Stewart went to B5. There's no sign of where Lyta went. It's like her ship just disappeared."   
The familiar face on Susan's vidscreen frowned. "I don't know, Susan. Zack was sure he could trust this Stewart?"  
"This is Zack, John. If he trusts the information, I trust it."  
"Problem is it doesn't work with the latest reports out of Mars."  
"Those haven't made it here, yet," Susan said. "What's the story?'  
The smile that spread across Interstellar Alliance President John Sheridan's face was the same paternal smile she'd seen from him over and over in the years since their first meeting on Io. This time, however, she was beginning to see how much his new job was wearing on him. He looked about ten years older than the last time she'd seen him, the day she'd left Babylon Five. "Well, it's no surprise you haven't heard about this one yet," he said. "The only reason I know is because Tessa Halloran just sent me a copy of the communique. Anyway, Mars is saying that they know who's behind Remember Byron now, and it's not Lyta."  
Susan could not hide her surprise at that. "Wait a second. How often does a resistance movement have a coup?"  
"Well, this one did. From the report I got, the new leader is a woman named Alina Minette. Ever heard of her?"  
Susan reached for her coffee, racking her brain for the name and coming up empty. "No. I take it they tried Psi Corps?"  
John raised an eyebrow. "Yes, and this is where it gets interesting. Psi Corps is saying that they don't have a record of an Alina Minette ever being in their ranks. They believe she's a normal."  
"What? What in the hell is a normal doing leading a telepath resistance?"  
"That's the sixty-four thousand credit question."  
"How long ago did she come into power?"  
"Not long. Two, maybe three weeks."  
Susan took a long sip from the mug. "They could be lying."  
"It's possible. But how could they have known these reports would get into our hands?"  
"They're telepaths," Susan scoffed. "You know Bester as well as I do. What are the odds that he's the only demon in the bunch? I wouldn't be surprised if he had telepaths eavesdropping on the Mars government. Hell, didn't Garibaldi try a similar trick with Byron's people right after the Alliance was formed?"  
The irritation that appeared on her old friend's face told her everything. "He wanted to. They really ended up doing it themselves, but you're right."  
"I'm always right, John," Susan quipped. "You should know that by now. Has the Alliance taken a formal stance on this yet?"  
He shook his head. "Too many of the ambassadors remember what Byron's people did back when we were on B5. It's been everything Delenn and I can do to keep them from putting together a lynch mob."  
"Now you know how the other half lives," Susan said. "Clark must have thought the same thing about us."  
"Maybe, but at least Luchenko isn't mounting a full-scale propaganda war against them."  
Susan sipped her coffee. "She can't. If she does, she risks alienating what's left of the Corps. If popular opinion turns against _them_, the whole operation's screwed. The last thing she needs is the normal population getting involved."  
"And I thought being Alliance President was bad enough."  
This time, it was her turn to smile. "No, on Minbar you just get to baby-sit a bunch of overgrown spoiled children all day. At least you've got practice. Speaking of which, how's David?'  
Sheridan laughed. "Holy terror, as always. What really scares me is that he hasn't hit the so-called 'terrible twos' yet."  
"Now you know why I'm _never_ having kids," she said.  
"Never say never, Susan. Anyway," Sheridan said, leaning back in his chair, "what's your plan?"  
Susan studied the swirling coffee in her mug. "The trail on Lyta runs out here at Daltron Seven, but she _did_ approach this Liana Stewart about joining the resistance. Granted, that was about a month ago now, but if Stewart decides to join, she'll have to be able to meet up with Lyta somewhere. I'm thinking it's high time I met Liana Stewart."  
John nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Have you reported any of this to Major Ryan yet?"  
"Everything except what had to do with Marcus."  
"Sounds good," he said. "Look, if you need any help-"  
"I'll be knocking on the front door of Alliance HQ. Thanks." She was just about to sign off when an idea struck. "Wait a minute, John."  
"Yes, Susan?'  
"Did Halloran send you a picture of this Alina Minette?"  
He shook his head. "Not a picture. Nobody's seen her long enough to take a picture. Best they could do was a composite drawing."  
"Can I see it?"  
"Sure," he said, reaching for something off to his side. After a brief second of fidgeting, he turned back to the screen. "It's on its way to you now. That all you need?"  
As soon as the download was complete, Susan called the picture up on an adjacent screen. She fought to keep her reaction out of her expression. "For now, John. Thanks, I owe you one."  
"Anytime, Susan."  
John Sheridan's face disappeared from the monitor. Once the subsequent Interstellar Alliance logo also faded, Susan's fingers flew over the touch screen. She called up a photograph from the file Zack had sent. It was a securecam shot taken during Stewart's visit to the station approximately three weeks before. She left the picture up, staring at the two images.  
"I'll be damned," she whispered.  
She quickly dismissed the images, tapping her link in the process. "Mister O'Connell, get me Captain Lochley on Babylon Five."  
Within seconds, Elizabeth Lochley's face appeared on her vidscreen. "Yes, Captain?"  
"Sorry to disturb you," Susan began, "but Zack sent me a file on a visitor you had about three weeks ago. A woman named Liana Stewart. I need to track this woman down. Did she file a flight plan when she left?"  
Lochley checked another monitor. "Yes. According to this she was headed for Minbar, then Mars."  
"Mars?"  
Lochley nodded.  
"Garibaldi moved to Mars, right?"  
"Yes," Lochley sighed. Susan could see relief in the woman's eyes. "He hasn't come back here for months."  
Susan smiled. What better place to wage a war against Psi Corps than from their own backyard? It was absolutely brilliant. Earthgov would never go up against a corporation like Edgars-Garibaldi Industries without concrete proof of Michael's involvement. Knowing him, they would never get it. If Lyta really was on Mars, Susan would wager an entire year's pay that Michael Garibaldi knew where. With Lyta would have to come Alina Minette and the rest of the movement. "Thank you _very_ much, Captain. Sorry if I disturbed you."  
Lochley shook her head. "Not a problem. If you need anything else-"  
"Just call. Sorry, I've been hearing that a lot lately. _Valkyrie_ out."  
Switching off the vidscreen, she tapped her link again. "Captain to the Bridge. Set course for Mars, best possible speed. And O'Connell, get me a secure line to Edgars-Garibaldi Industries. I want to talk to Michael Garibaldi."

[End part 6 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	7. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 7

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 25, 2264_

Alina flipped through page after page of reports, deciding what information to pass along to Lyta, and what their leader really didn't need to worry about. Her eyes stopped at a copy of a government report dated just a few days previous. "Damn it," she whispered.  
She had barely been out of the base since arriving on Mars. How had they gotten the composite drawing?  
Leaning back in her chair, she held the report of her alleged rise to power in a tense hand. "Now, what?"  
"We make sure they don't get a photograph, that's what."  
She swiveled slowly toward the sound of Keene's voice. "And how would you propose we do that? We don't even know how they got the composite."  
His left eyebrow rose a fraction. "Then we find out."  
"Bester would give quite a bit to get his creepy little hands on any of us. Precisely how do you suggest we go about finding this out?"  
"Simple," he said, dropping into the chair beside her. "Have you ever heard of something called a blanket scan?"  
She shook her head.  
"Well, it's part of a Psi Cop's training. They can put a high-level telepathic signal out for a maximum of a kilometer all around. Lets them pick up rogues. Between the two of us, I'm sure-"  
"No," she stated. "Nothing that would put us at risk. Lyta told me about the bloodhound units. I was hoping we'd never have to work around them. Should have known better. The only good thing is that we're well over a kilometer outside of the main dome. Do you know of any way we could pick up on a signal like that?"  
He shook his head. "We'd have to set up a permanent telepathic watch."  
"Do it," she said. "Unless you know of someone in this unit who's more familiar with the way bloodhound units work, you're in charge of organizing the watch."  
"Consider it done. I'd recommend you and Lyta both stay out of sight for a little while, though."  
She drew her legs up, placing her feet on the chair seat. "That might be easier said than done. How are we supposed to gather information, meet with important people?"  
"Send someone else," he said, his voice practically begging. "Garibaldi can find you a representative from one of his people. Work through written orders. Just don't appear anywhere in public."  
"Are you suggesting Lyta and I hold ourselves hostage?"  
He reached out and clutched at her hand. "You do what you can to keep everyone safe. Just like you did for Kelly."  
"Andrew-"  
"I know, you're used to looking out for yourself. That's not the way it is anymore. You can't just put yourself in harm's way. What about your friend? You may be the only hope he has."  
She took a deep breath, staring at his hand wrapped around hers. "I am a Ranger. We have ways of making the impossible happen."  
He shook his head. "No. We can't get them involved. We have to do this ourselves. Besides, I thought you said Delenn let you go?"  
Alina eyes widened as an idea struck. "She did, but, she also said that she would be there if I needed her help. What if I used the Rangers to save a Ranger?"  
"He's right, Alina," Garibaldi said, stepping into the room behind them. "It isn't the Rangers' fight, but you may have an idea about Marcus. It'll take longer, but it would be more secure than anything I could put in down here."  
Alina very slowly turned her head toward Michael. "Do you still have connections to the Rangers?"  
"Was Clark corrupt?" he answered with a smug smile. "Of course I do. There are special encrypt codes for Delenn's level of security, though. I'll bring them on my next trip. You give me a message for her, I'll make sure she gets it."  
"Thank you, Mister Garibaldi," Alina said, relieved that something was finally going her way. "Now, is there something I can do for you?"  
"Yes. Where's Lyta? I've got something the two of you will be dying to hear."  
Alina turned a glance to the person at the nearest display. "Is she in her quarters?"  
"Yes, ma'am."  
Keene stood, releasing her hand with a squeeze. "I'll get her. Be right back."  
No sooner was he through the door than Garibaldi began to laugh. "What have you done to him?"  
"Nothing," she answered. "Why?"  
"Nothing?" he asked, surprised. "You're serious? He does a complete one-eighty in a week and you didn't do _anything_?"  
Alina's eyes were drawn to the empty doorway. "No. What do you mean?"  
Garibaldi lowered himself into the chair across the table. "Lady, I've known that guy for a year now. Up until last week, I'd only seen one man alive more depressed than him, and that was me when I found out about Lise's first marriage. I'd say he was back to normal, but nobody around here knows what normal _is_ for him."  
One question popped into her mind. "Could it be the fact that he's not in charge anymore?"  
"You're the telepath," Garibaldi said. "You've been in close contact with him. You tell me."  
They sat in silence while Alina's brain absorbed the information. She had heard the story of what `normal' had been for him and seen the state he'd been in when she arrived. Past experience told her that being in charge of such a flourishing group of people was extremely stressful. The idea that he had been pushed into such a position right after losing his wife and daughter, well, anxiety was a kind word for it. Lyta's arrival certainly explained the change in personality more than any influence she might have had. She didn't want to imagine the sheer hell the last year had been for him, but she had a feeling that she would find out eventually.  
"You rang, Michael?" Lyta asked as she stepped through the doorway. Keene was right at her heels, sinking into the chair he had vacated only minutes before.  
Garibaldi's eyes brightened as the redhead took a seat at the table. "You're going to love this one, Lyta," he said. "Guess who just called this morning?"  
Lyta shrugged. "I don't know, Sheridan?"  
"Good guess, but wrong. Even better than Sheridan."  
"Ivanova?" Keene offered.  
"Give that man a cigar," Garibaldi smiled.  
"Susan? What did she want?" Lyta asked.  
He turned to Alina with a raised eyebrow. "She was looking for you, actually," he said. "Although she said she'd rather speak to Liana Stewart."  
"I'm sure she would," Alina flatly replied.  
Keene shook his head. "Wait a minute, that's not your name."  
Alina's eyes fell to the table. "It was."  
"Is this all part of that long story?" Keene asked.  
Alina nodded. "Mister Garibaldi, what precisely did she say about me?"  
"She knows about your connection to Marcus. She _also_ knows about our little story to the government here."  
"How does she know both?"  
"This is Ivanova," Garibaldi stressed. "Don't try to figure it out, just accept it and go on."  
"You're better off that way," Lyta added, smiling a little too widely for Alina's liking. She had barely known the redhead two months, but Alina could have sworn that she was seeing the smile of someone with knowledge they just didn't want to bring to the table yet. And now was simply not the time to broach the subject.  
"You remember the old saying `God works in mysterious ways'?" Garibaldi quipped. "Well, we had a corollary on B5 -- so does Ivanova."  
Alina attempted to pull them all back to reality. "But, what does she _want_ with me?"  
"A meeting," Garibaldi answered. "You, Ivanova, Lyta and me."  
"Why you?" Lyta asked.  
"I don't know how she found out you were here, but once she did, she was sure I'd know where to find you. I told her if she wanted the meeting, I had to be there. No discussion."  
"And she went along with it?" Keene asked, surprised.  
"She trusts him," Lyta replied. "When does she want to meet, Michael?"  
Garibaldi leaned back. "She said she'd be here in four days."  
"I take it we're meeting at your place?" Lyta asked.  
"That was the deal."  
"Lise doesn't object?"  
"She doesn't know about it yet."  
"You'd better tell her," Alina stated. "Because if Susan is not on our side, things could get _very_ messy."  
Garibaldi burst out laughing. "Ivanova, willingly work for the _Corps_?"  
"It would never happen. Susan hates the Corps," Lyta added. "Sometimes, I think she just hates telepaths in general. Let me give you an idea. The first time I went rogue, I found out about a sleeper plant the Corps had put on Babylon Five. The password to activate it had to be sent telepathically, so I went there to tell them about it. Sheridan had me send the password to everyone on the staff. She was the last one, and the only reason she did it was because we hadn't found the plant yet. I have never met anyone who was so terrified of possibly being scanned."  
"Terrified, hell," Garibaldi cut in. "She was ready to kill you."  
"I know," Lyta stated. "And I think I understand why."  
Alina raised one eyebrow. "You understand?"  
An odd look passed over Lyta's face, one that suggested the telepath had an idea. "Yes. I can't explain it right now, but let me think something over for a little while. Having Susan on our side _could_ prove useful."  
"Even though she's a normal?" Keene asked.  
"Yes," Lyta whispered.  
"Even though you think she hates telepaths?" Alina asked.  
"I think we could reason with her," Lyta answered.  
"So, it's settled," Garibaldi said, pushing himself back from the table. "Meeting's at my place in four days?"  
Lyta and Alina exchanged looks. "Yes," Lyta said. "Just give us a time to be there."  
"Got it. I'll let you know in a couple of days."

----------

_March 26, 2264_

Tall, sculpted shrubbery surrounded her as she walked toward the stone fountain. It was all so familiar, yet somehow she knew she had never seen this particular route before.  
"Where am I?"  
Voices surrounded her, speaking a language she hadn't heard since childhood. A language that it almost pained her to hear.  
Russian.  
"I'm home," she whispered. "But how? When?"  
Her mind hurled question upon question at her, until finally one voice broke out of the crowd. One voice that answered all of the questions.  
"Susan!"  
The sound burrowed into her heart, curling up in an icy ball. She didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see the owner of that voice walk up to her as if nothing had happened.  
She didn't want to have to admit to herself that this was all another dream.  
That she was not really home.  
That he was not really alive.  
So she concentrated on something more stable, the columns and ornate decoration of the cathedral. The gently curving walls that seemed to wrap her in an embrace. The sun that shone so brilliantly in the bright blue sky over the courtyard in which she stood. The splash of the water in the fountain. This was home, Saint Petersburg, the place she had dared to dream of seeing again. The place . . .  
"Susan?"  
A slight breeze played with the shrubs, their rustles mixing in with the voices. Sounds of laughter and happiness.  
It was always about happiness.  
And here seemed to be the only place that she would ever find it.  
She listened, forcing the lone familiar voice to join the chaotic jumble of noise all around. It worked, until a hand came down on her shoulder.  
"Are you all right?"  
Bracing herself for the inevitable, she turned around and faced the world her fantasies had created, the world reality simply would not let her have.  
"Yes," she said, forcing her spirits to rise. "I'm fine."  
Those brilliant emerald eyes watched her in silence. She knew from his expression that he was trying to decide if she was telling him the truth. When he finally came to his conclusion, the smile that lit up his features reached all the way into that cobalt gaze. Four years ago, she would not have dared mention the kind of reaction those eyes had engendered. After all, he _had_ told her there was someone waiting for him at home.  
She had never envied someone so much in her entire life.  
Had she realized back then that home meant Babylon Five and the someone waiting was, in fact, her, how many of those fantasies would have become reality?  
She actually blushed at some of the ideas going through her mind.  
"You're fine?" he asked, humor very lightly coloring his voice.  
"Yes," she answered, rolling her eyes. "What do you want?"  
"Just thought you might like to know that the wine is getting warm. Unfortunate thing about wine from Mars, tastes divine, but it simply does not keep well."  
She knew that wasn't the real reason he was trying to force her out of her own thoughts, but she let him take her hand anyway. The sensations that accompanied it convinced her that the dreams she had been having for two years were taking an unusual turn. They were becoming more intense, more detailed with each passing second.  
Until now, her mind had only registered a feather-light brush against her skin whenever they touched. Now, it was as if he were really there. She could feel the texture of his skin, the strength of his hand, even warmth emanating from the flesh.  
Either her imagination was becoming more vivid than it had _ever_ been before, or the perhaps suspicion she had had these last few months really was true. Just as John had carried a piece of Kosh with him to Z'ha'dum, she would carry a piece of Marcus with her until the day she died.  
One final gift.  
As if she would ever . . . _could_ ever . . . forget.  
Damned ancient technology.  
"Earth to Susan?"  
Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of it. She looked down to find him stretched out on a blanket watching her, both eyebrows raised and a glass of wine in his outstretched hand.  
She hadn't even noticed they'd stopped walking.  
"Now you're worrying me," he said. "You don't usually go away like that. Here you've gone and done it twice now."  
She sank onto the blanket beside him, taking the glass. He was right, the wine _was_ getting warm. "Sorry," she said. "I guess I'm just not used to this yet."  
"This?" he asked.  
She took a sip from the glass, not quite certain how to respond. She had long since grown accustomed to seeing him in her dreams. It had even happened a few times during the Shadow War. Things had changed since then, however. Her dreams had changed. Her life had changed.  
She looked up at the sky, searching the clouds for the right words. They were a long time coming. "I've waited too long, Marcus."  
"For what?"  
"Home, happiness, you. Hell, everything that ever mattered."  
"Well, you _were_ rather preoccupied," he replied.  
"And now it's all gone."  
"Is it?" he asked.  
She pulled her eyes away from the soft cotton of the clouds to find him watching her intently. There was no subtext in that stare, no question waiting to be asked, no confession to be made. She could not recall ever seeing such a perfectly innocent expression on his features in all of the time she had known him. "Are you _really_ here?" she finally asked. "I mean, this isn't _all_ a dream?"  
He shrugged. "Who knows?"  
Susan swallowed hard. He was right. She certainly could not answer that question for herself, how was she to expect what was probably a figment of her imagination to do it? She would just have to wait for an answer on that one.  
Just what she needed, more waiting.  
The least she could do was pull part of her life out of its holding pattern, even if it was only in a dream. She sat her empty wineglass aside. "Marcus?"  
"Yes?"  
"Who cares? I mean, if some part of you is really here, wonderful. After everything that's happened, that's the best I could hope for. If this is all just a dream, that's okay, too. Hell, I've spent the last couple of years living in these dreams, what's a few more?"  
"Susan?" he asked.  
She almost smiled at the disbelief in his voice. "No, Marcus. I'm sick of waiting. I'm sick of losing the people I love. And I'm _damned_ tired of not being happy."  
"So, may I ask what you intend to do about it?"  
_That_ brought a smile to her face. "Something I should have done a long time ago," she said, pulling herself to her feet. One hand reached out toward him. "Come on. You and I have a lot of catching up to do."

[End part 7 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	8. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 8

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 27, 2264_

"This morning's supply line raid was a complete success," Alina announced to the small group assembled at the conference table. "According to our informant, it's going to take Syria Planum over a month to rebuild what they lost."  
"That's if they rebuild at all," Keene added. "Knowing them, they might just expand an existing line."  
"Then we'll hit that one, too," Lyta stated. "If Bester hadn't rebuilt Black Omega, we could do a lot more damage."  
Alina raised a dark eyebrow at the reference. "Black Omega?"  
"Bester's pet starfury squadron," Garibaldi answered. "They had a little run-in with us a few years back. Susan's wing was the best. No surprise it took him this long to rebuild it."  
"It took that long just to get replacement 'furies," Keene said. "Earthforce doesn't just hand those things out, you know."  
"Oh, we know," Garibaldi said. "Just a damned shame they had to give him 'furies that had atmospheric capability. Thing is, from what Ivanova said, they weren't based on Mars."  
"She's right. There are only a few 'furies here. Maybe six, tops."  
Alina turned to Keene, a wide smile on her face. "Why don't we put them next on our hit list?"  
"You want to hit a starfury base?" he asked, stunned. "Are you nuts?"  
"How many guards on the base?"  
Keene shook his head. "You _are_ nuts."  
Lyta leaned toward him. "How many guards?"  
"It's smack in the middle of Syria Planum," he said, running a hand through his sandy hair. "You'll have to get around the facility's security before you can even get to the 'fury base."  
Garibaldi and Lyta exchanged smiles. "Piece of cake," he said. "Think the four of us should be able to pull it off?"  
Keene stared at the trio as if they'd all sprouted spare arms. "_Four_ of us, against the whole of the Syria Planum facility? Provided I bought into this scheme, how exactly did you plan on getting around the fact that we're at the top of the Corps' most wanted list? They're definitely going to know what we look like."  
The smile faded slightly from Garibaldi's features. "He's got a point. I'm not exactly the war hero I was the last time we tried this. Any ideas?"  
Alina looked around the table. "Well, Lyta, Andrew and I could probably put up fairly good telepathic disguises. Make them think we were someone else."  
"Telepathy doesn't work on securecam," Garibaldi observed.  
"Maybe for Andrew," Lyta said with an evil smile. "But, what if the securecam system had a little . . . technical difficulty?"  
Garibaldi shook his head and widened his grin. "You mean, along the lines of that camera on B5?"  
"What camera?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"You really think you can take out the whole system?"  
Lyta gave him a look that questioned his sanity. "I've taken out far bigger things than a securecam system, Michael."  
"Speaking of which," he started. "We need to talk later. About our little deal."  
Her expression grew serious. "Okay," she said with a nod. "After we get through here?"  
"Good enough for me."  
"Let's get back to the subject," Keene interjected. "Garibaldi's not a teep. How do we get him in?"  
Lyta's eyes shot open. "Grins," she whispered. "Andrew, does the re-education facility there have the Grins?"  
An inspired smile spread across Keene's features. "Oh, Lyta, you are a genius. Just about everybody there should be too afraid to stop us."  
Alina turned to Garibaldi, puzzled. "Grins?"  
Garibaldi, however, just shrugged.  
"Something from when I was a kid," Lyta explained. "The Grins were always one of the Corps' little mysteries. I heard a rumor once that they were teachers, but I don't think anyone ever knew who they _really_ were. They always wore these masks that usually had these frightening smiles on them. They only appeared for two reasons, either to give you presents, or to punish you."  
"Usually for punishment," Keene added. "I only saw them once, and that was enough."  
"You're not kidding," Lyta said.  
"Then it should be enough to throw a scare into any telepath we run across?" Garibaldi asked.  
"It's a safe bet," Keene said. "I know they'd scare the hell out of me. The thing is, how do we get our hands on the masks?"  
Lyta pursed her lips. "I've got a contact back in Geneva. Michael, can you help us get a secured message to her?"  
Garibaldi nodded. "I can have one of my couriers do it."  
"Speaking of secured messages," Alina said. "Any word on those codes for Delenn?"  
"Yes," Garibaldi said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He handed her a small, lavender data crystal. "She sent me an encrypt program. You rank your own code."  
"How goes the plan?" Lyta asked.  
"It doesn't," Alina answered. "I need to see the research that was done on Minbar before I can even attempt to figure something out."  
"Well, good news," Garibaldi said. "Delenn attached it to that program. It's on that crystal."  
"All of it?"  
"Everything she could find. She even got into the Warrior Caste data files."  
Alina looked down at the small crystal in her hand, suddenly far more respectful of its contents. "All of this for one life."  
"The right people want him back," Lyta consoled. "Sometimes, that's all it takes."  
"You three aren't the only ones working on this," Garibaldi corrected. "Delenn said she's got the best people on Minbar researching it right now. When she told them who it was they were working for, apparently they were all too happy to oblige."  
Alina's eyes widened. "Really? If this works, he'll be happy to know he was finally a hero for something."  
"Being part of the galactic equivalent of Romeo and Juliet?" Garibaldi asked.  
"It's the stuff legends are made of, Mister Garibaldi," Alina said. "Now, back to the Syria Planum idea. What do we look at for a timeline?"  
Lyta's eyes narrowed. "If my connection comes through, we should be able to get the masks in a couple of weeks."  
"And if she doesn't?" Keene asked.  
"We go to Plan B. Get them from Syria Planum itself."  
"But, we don't have any contacts there," Garibaldi reminded them.  
"I've got an idea about that," Lyta said. "But I have to talk to Susan first."  
"Why do I have a feeling I know what you're thinking?"  
The redhead smiled. "Because you've known me too long, Michael."  
"She won't go in there," he warned.  
"I think I can convince her."  
Garibaldi looked disgusted. "This is Bester, Lyta. He'll scan her as soon as she gets within his line of sight. I'm not going to let Ivanova anywhere near here until you tell me for sure what you've got in mind."  
Lyta leaned forward. "Okay. We all know that Bester will scan her. That's a given."  
Keene nodded. "Do we know if she can block a scan?"  
"She could block me when I was still a P5. She may need help to block Bester, though."  
Garibaldi shook his head. "How?"  
"Michael," Lyta began after a deep breath. "What if we used the same trick Bester pulled on you to help her."  
"She'll never let you do it."  
"I think she might. You see, I know how badly she wants to see him suffer. Beating him at his own game might be enough."  
Garibaldi shook his head. "She wants him dead."  
"Her and half the planet," Keene remarked. "No, killing him is too quick. This way is better. At least here we can test the blocks, see if they'll hold off a P12."  
"What if they don't?" Alina asked. "I mean, she can naturally block a P5, but how do you reinforce blocks against a P12?"  
"The fact that she's a telepath will help," Lyta mused.  
Garibaldi's jaw dropped. "Say _what_? Hate to break it to you, Lyta, but she's just as normal as I am."  
The redhead simply shook her head.  
"How do you know? Lyta, I've known her for years. Sure, she hates the Corps, but she _is not_ a telepath."  
"How would you know, Michael? It's easy to hide it from a normal," Lyta answered. "From what I can tell, she's still a latent, barely a P1, so she could probably just pick up on emotions and not thoughts, but that's enough for the Corps."  
"You didn't answer my question. _How_ do you know?"  
Lyta looked him straight in the eyes. "You were there when we found the plant, Michael. Why do you think Susan was so terrified of my scanning her? Why do you think she was able to block me? To this day, I haven't met another normal who could block me like she did. She used the same tricks another telepath would use. I knew about her mother being a telepath, and her family always stayed one step ahead of the testing. That was all of the convincing I needed. She was my friend, too, Michael. That's why I didn't tell anyone, either."  
Garibaldi looked as if he had just been stabbed in the back. "You've got circumstantial evidence at best," he stated. "Marcus had a thing for her. If she was a telepath, why didn't she know about that?"  
"Maybe she chose to ignore it," Lyta answered. "After all, we _were_ in the middle of two wars. She was second-in-command of the largest fleet ever assembled, not to mention she still had to run the station. Do you really think she had the _time_ to deal with anything else?"  
Alina felt a grudging acceptance flowing from Garibaldi's mind. If Lyta was right, which she didn't doubt, then the sense of betrayal she had felt from him was perfectly logical.  
She hadn't known the man long, but Alina was sure that secrets were Michael Garibaldi's stock in trade. He seemed to have a real gift for covert operations, and a complete lack of use for the Psi Corps. It was the perfect combination for someone in his position.  
She had picked up on his general mistrust of telepaths the second Lyta had introduced them, and it had taken her rescue of Kelly from the cave-in to gain Garibaldi's trust. The idea that Ivanova had kept a secret like this from a person like him, well, Alina's respect for the mysterious Susan Ivanova only went up.  
"She was wise to hide," Alina said.  
"Gives you two something else in common besides a corpse," Garibaldi wisecracked.  
"Michael!" Lyta chastised.  
"Well, it's true! First, if you believe Alina, they were both close to Marcus. That _alone_ makes me question her sanity. Now they've both hid out from the Corps for twenty years?"  
"Fifteen," Alina corrected.  
Garibaldi coldly glared at her. "Fifteen. Doesn't matter. Either way, you both lied about either who or what you are. How am I supposed to trust either one of you?"  
Lyta opened her mouth to protest, but Alina stopped her with a hand. "_Mister_ Garibaldi, first of all, save for the occasional Psi Cop I have encountered over the last two years, I have not lied to anyone about what I am. You can ask Delenn next time you speak to her. Even the Rangers know. If she has chosen to tell no one about me, then that is her decision, for which I am grateful. The fact that I _actively_ chose to live outside of the Corps' reach is hardly something you can hold against me."  
"I know a lot of people who'd love to hear of a place outside of the reach of the almighty Psi Corps," he shot back.  
"Is Minbar a good place to start?" she spat, fighting desperately to control her anger. "I give your friend credit, Mister Garibaldi. I _envy_ her, actually. She was able to remain hidden among those she knew and loved."  
Realization spread across Garibaldi's features. "Wait a minute. Fifteen years ago? The Minbari? That was-"  
"The end of the Earth-Minbari War, yes."  
"You hid out with the enemy?" he asked, his voice barely making it above a whisper.  
"As opposed to becoming a puppet of the Corps? You know as well as I the purpose the Shadows had for Psi Corps. Besides," she said, turning her eyes to Lyta, "having us on opposite sides of the Shadow War would have been quite . . . well, let's just say that I don't want to think about what might have happened."  
From the look on Garibaldi's face, she surmised that he was doing enough thinking on that subject. She could feel what little trust he had in her ebbing away. His anger, however, was doing nothing of the sort. "What about going back home?"  
"Arisia? Sorry, the Shadows took care of it a long time ago."  
He shook his head slowly, the anger not abating at all. Alina could tell he was simply venting his frustration and rage, which was the only reason she managed to control her own irritation. Of course, the things she was hearing about this Susan Ivanova _were_ rather enlightening. She hadn't realized precisely how much they had in common until now.  
"Look," Lyta interrupted, "any personal problems we may have with each other have got to be put aside." She pulled herself out of the chair, heading to a nearby console. "Michael, I'm putting a message on this data crystal. It needs to get to Cassandra Alexander in Geneva. She's got an office in Teeptown."  
Michael simply glared icily at Alina.  
Lyta pulled the crystal out of the reader, handing it to Garibaldi. "You still okay with this, Michael?"  
"It'll get there, don't worry," he said through clenched teeth. Before another word could be spoken, he rose and nearly flew out of the room.  
"I guess the meeting's over," Lyta stated, seconds before following Garibaldi out the door.  
Alina sat silent, capable of nothing more than staring at the reports in her hand.  
"You okay?" Andrew asked.  
Alina's eyes raised to find him watching her closely. "Yes."  
"Now, why don't I believe that?"  
Her only response was the absent shuffling of flimsies.  
"Look, for what it's worth, he's not always such a jerk."  
"I know," she said, pulling herself out of the chair. "Lyta told me this story about how he bailed her out after she'd gone rogue the first time. He doesn't hate all telepaths, Andrew, but she also said he's damned annoying when he's right."  
"What?"  
Her eyes remained locked on his through sheer force of will. "Come on. We need to talk."

----------

Lyta stalked out of the conference room, her prey remaining one step ahead as they made their way through the underground corridors.  
"I know it's a surprise, but that was _totally_ uncalled for, Michael!"  
Garibaldi wheeled around with far more speed than she had thought him capable. "Surprise? Have you lost your _mind_?"  
"No," the telepath shot back. "Have _you_? Alina did _not_ deserve what you gave her in there! I don't care how mad you are at Susan, you are _not_ taking it out on any of my people. Got that?"  
"Lyta-"  
"Don't start, Michael," she calmly stated. "I don't want to hear it." The anger churned within her, stirring up things that were far better off left alone. She felt the first brush of the Vorlon influence against her mind. The anxiety, the rage, it all boiled just beneath her carefully controlled surface. She was amazed that she had the capacity to keep it reigned in.  
"You don't want to hear it," he repeated, disgusted. "Lyta, she's in there planning an assault. Are you sure you want someone like her doing that?"  
She could not believe what she was hearing. "Someone like _what_ Michael? A dirty coward of a teep?"  
"I never-"  
"Said that? Doesn't matter. She was a Ranger, and that gives her more practical military experience than anyone else in this unit. Your personal biases are just that, yours. They don't mean a damned thing down here."  
Garibaldi paced the corridor. She could sense his temper boiling away just beneath the surface. "If it weren't for Bester . . . ."  
"You wouldn't be here," she finished. "Yes, I know. Michael, look, I'm sorry you had to find out about Susan from me. Really. If it's any help, I understand. She was one of the _few_ people who still treated me like a human being after I started working for Kosh. She still didn't trust me enough to tell me, and I could have helped her."  
The boil was easing down to a simmer. "So, what do we do when Susan gets here?"  
"Leave that to me. What did you need to talk to me about back there?"  
"Our little deal. You've got your fighting force. The bank accounts are just fine. Hell, I even gave you guys a base. Now, it's your turn." One finger tapped his right temple. "When do these come out?"  
She watched him for a long time, thinking it over. The fact that he was so adamant about it finally answered the question that had been nagging her since setting foot back on Mars. He really hadn't found another telepath, unless Alina had already declined.  
Either way, he still needed her alive and well. She was confident that she could trust him at her back when the time came to hit Syria Planum. Maybe they would get lucky and run into Bester during the raid.  
Maybe _then_ she would take out the neural blocks. Garibaldi's rage could definitely be useful.  
Her anger had subsided, receding into the same hold occupied by the last vestige of Vorlon power. "When we get back from Syria Planum, Michael. I'll take them out then."  
"That could be months!"  
"Do I look like a committee?" she asked, red eyebrows raised. "They'll come out _after_ the raid."  
His expression sank into one of disgust. "What the hell? I've lived with them this long. Why _not_ make sure I cover your ass in the hit?"  
Lyta patted his upper arm. "Great minds think alike."  
She headed back to the camp, the weight of Garibaldi's cold stare on her back until she stepped out of sight.

[End part 8 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	9. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 9

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

Now that I've probably confused the daylights out of you, how about we fix that?

----------

_March 27, 2264_

Alina walked slowly into the secluded alcove that served as her sleeping quarters. The space was small, with barely enough room for a bed and some storage space for her clothes, but it was enough for her few possessions.  
Two of them had to be hidden away, safe from prying eyes. One was pinned to the inside of her vest where it could not be seen, yet she could still sense its familiar weight. The small cylinder of the other rested in a pocket inside the vest that had once belonged to her father. No matter what happened, she would rather die than lose that vest.  
She felt a small pang of guilt at having lied to Garibaldi. Delenn had never really agreed to her resignation.  
Leave of absence, yes.  
Resignation, no.  
Two years was one hell of a sabbatical. Maybe, when this was all over, she would go back to Tuzanor and the rest of her surrogate family, but not without Marcus.  
The thought brought her to the other two items, openly adorning the wall beside her bed.  
"Now, that's a combination," Andrew announced. "A sword and ballet shoes?" He reached toward the shoes, but stopped at the sound of her voice.  
"The shoes were my mother's. The sword-"  
"Belonged to this Marcus?" Andrew asked, turning until their eyes met. When she nodded, he said, "It sounds like he was pretty important to you."  
Alina swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "Like a brother. No. Closer than that."  
"And then the Corps found you?" he gently asked.  
"Yes," she whispered. "I was just sixteen. The only family I'd ever known was my father and the Coles. Then the Corps arrived. Marcus saved my life, Andrew. I owe him."  
"And you're going to pay him back. Tell me, how did he do it?"  
The blue eyes she looked into were compassionate, understanding. The touch at her cheek brought with it the idea that he wanted to hear her story, no matter how painful. Alina tried to reign in her thoughts, block him out, but she could not manage even her normal blocks. She was just too weak from everything that had happened. She knew that without them he would pick up every idea that ran through her mind. The pain of the memories felt as if she had been impaled upon that sword.  
"Alina?" Andrew prompted.  
"He got drafted," she whispered. "It was toward the end of the Minbari War. I threw a fit, told the Psi Cops that there was no way I was leaving before he shipped out for Earth. I even told them I'd kill myself if they didn't let me stay that long."  
"So, they let you stay to say goodbye to him," Andrew said, allowing his hand to slip into hers. "How'd that make a difference?"  
"It changed what ship I left on. The Corps didn't take the outer colony worlds seriously back then, so one of the Cops took their ship on to their next assignment. I don't remember much about him, just the feeling of something dark buried under the surface. I did everything I could to get him to leave. The other one, she stayed to make sure I got on this shuttle that was going to a passenger liner headed for Mars. I seem to remember her having this idea that she would mentor me once I was officially in the Corps."  
"What happened to the liner?"  
Her mind burned with the memory of the fireball. "The last stop before Earth was near the Proxima jumpgate. Twenty-four hours before we used the gate it was in Earth-controlled space. The Minbari front moved."  
"You were attacked?"  
She shrugged, barely able to shake her head. "I don't know. All I know is that I felt something happening and ran for the lifepods. The Psi Cop couldn't keep up. I ended up being the only one who survived."  
"You're sure?"  
She nodded, the memory of the worst five days of her life replaying in her mind. Five days of breathing increasingly stale air, eating emergency rations that barely passed for food, bumping into the inner hull of the lifepod as she tried to sleep in the zero gravity. Five excruciating days of not knowing if she would live or die. Tears welled within her eyes.  
Andrew stepped forward, gathering her into a comforting embrace. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, felt his hand begin to smooth her hair. "It's okay. What happened next? Who found you?"  
"A Minbari freighter. Worker caste. They picked up a life sign in the debris field. I got lucky. Another three hours and I would have suffocated."  
"They gave you sanctuary?"  
She nodded against his shoulder. "I was just sixteen, and terrified. They had a telepath on board."  
"And since you couldn't tell him what happened, you showed him?"  
"Yes. They told their superiors that I was a refugee, which was true in a way. Going back to Arisia was just too dangerous. Kalenn, the telepath, he said he'd train me." She took a deep breath, willing her emotions into check. "He didn't know what to do when he found out I was telekinetic, too. Apparently they don't have a lot of telekinetics on Minbar, let alone people who are both. So, he did the best he could."  
He eased back slowly, looking directly into her eyes. "I thought you said-"  
"The Vorlons? There were very few Vorlons on Minbar back then. I didn't even meet one until a few years before I joined the Rangers. Like I said, Kalenn tried teaching me as much as he could. When he couldn't do any more for me I ended up studying with other telepaths in the temples, taking the same classes they taught the other students."  
"Ouch," Andrew winced. "This was right after the War?"  
She nodded. "If Kalenn had been Warrior Caste, I'd be dead right now."  
"So, how did you get into the Rangers?"  
"A friend, actually. Entil'zha Sinclair. He thought the Rangers needed a doctor that didn't require modern medicine to do the job. You see, once I started training to be a healer, word of what I was doing got around. Eventually, the Grey Council took an interest."  
"How long ago was this?" he asked.  
"About seven years ago. They sent one of their own to study what I was doing." The memory brought a smile to her face, the first in what felt like days. "Rathenn. Of course, I didn't know he was Satai at the time. He was the one who pushed me toward working with the Vorlons. I was too much in awe to realize how much they were using me."  
"Using you?"  
She turned away quickly, fighting to hide her anger. "There are times, not many, mind you, but there are times I look at Lyta and want to scream at her. How? How could she have been so stupid as to let them use her like that?"  
"I'm not following you."  
"What they did to her, I watched them do to dozens of Minbari telepaths, Andrew," she said, fists clenching at her sides. "They were perfecting the process, developing their ultimate weapon against the Shadows."  
His jaw dropped. "They let you watch?"  
"How do you think I learned to heal Minbari?"  
"And they didn't try to do it to you?"  
She shook her head. "All they said about me was, `Beauty in the dark.' My guess is they didn't think they could program me."  
"Program you?" he asked, confusion in his eyes.  
"What they did," she began, running a hand through her dark hair, "it was nauseating in a way. I ran deep scans on all of their test subjects when the process was completed. Not only were their abilities enhanced at least twice over, they were programmed. The programming was put in so deeply that not even I could get exactly what it was, but it had the Vorlons written all over it."  
"How do you know it was the Vorlons?"  
Her entire body ached at the memory. "I actually managed to start a scan on one once," she said, wincing at her own stupidity. "It was the Ambassador to Minbar, Ulkesh. Spent three days in the hospital for my efforts after he threw me against a wall."  
"Three days? For being thrown against a wall?"  
There was a trace of laughter in her voice as she said, "Minbari doctors. They hadn't quite learned how to treat human patients yet."  
"But, did you make contact with Ulkesh?"  
"Enough to know a Vorlon telepathic signature when I run across one."  
Andrew began pacing the small room. She could feel his thoughts racing. "So, what happened to their test subjects? I mean, were they in either one of the wars?"  
She shook her head. "None of them lived that long. It's as if, once the Vorlons were done with them, they became time bombs waiting to go off. And the bastards made sure I was there to clean up their messes."  
"Why you? Why not one of the people they worked on?"  
She smiled at the irony. "None of their precious creations ended up being mentally stable. Some of them got control of their new abilities after a time, others never did. They all eventually had breakdowns. None of the Minbari telepaths was strong enough, and there wasn't a single altered telepath _stable_ enough to handle the others when the breakdowns happened. So it fell to me. The only way I was able to get out of the deal was thanks to Sinclair."  
His expression grew serious. "We've got a problem. What do we do about Lyta?"  
"Well, I talked to an old friend of hers when we stopped at Babylon Five. From what he said, she was close to their first Vorlon Ambassador, Kosh. She even worked as his aide. That was unheard of among the Vorlons. It's entirely possible that it was Kosh that kept her higher abilities from developing too rapidly. From what I can tell right now, she's stable, probably more stable than any of the other test subjects. Kosh may have saved her life."  
"From what you can tell right now?"  
"I'd have to do a deep scan to find out more, but she'd sense that. She's strong enough to stop me."  
He stepped closer, wrapping his hand around hers. "Will you do me a favor?"  
"Of course."  
"Keep an eye on her. This hit on Syria Planum could be the biggest fight of this war. If she really is like the others, I don't want to be in the same sector when she goes off."

[End part 9 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	10. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 10

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

My apologies to the "No 'I love you's" contingent, because there is one in here. I hope I've set it up well enough for you all to accept its presence.

----------

_March 28, 2264_

Susan pulled the blankets up to her chin, staring at the ceiling for what she was convinced would be the last time as the sleeping pill began to take effect. Ten hours, quite possibly all the time she had left on the _Valkyrie_, and she would be damned if she were going into the next phase of this assignment on less than eight hours of sleep.   
The next thing she knew, she was in a beautiful room with walnut brown walls. Gold leaf decorated the wooden columns in each wall. Sunlight shone brightly through the wide windows. The tapestry-covered furniture and ornate wooden flooring brought it all back. "Menshikov Palace."  
"Yes," came the reply. She turned to find Marcus standing in the doorway. As he stepped into a beam of sunlight, she noticed the wide smile on his features. "Thought you might like someplace else familiar."  
She chuckled at that. "First Kazan Cathedral, now here. What are you trying to do, take a full-blown tour of Saint Petersburg?"  
"You did say you wanted to come back here after the War," he shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers. "I was curious. Interesting place, this. You know, there's a statue out by the main staircase-"  
"Marcus," she interrupted, "I'm sorry. I'm just not up to this right now." Her steps led her toward a corner, and the small seat beneath one window. Its glass depicted the peaceful land surrounding the Palace.  
When had her dreams been so vivid?  
"What's wrong?" he asked, lowering himself into the windowseat in the adjoining wall. "I've never seen you like this."  
Pulling her legs up beside her, she huddled in the small seat, making no response. She hadn't yet grown accustomed to this version of the man she had known. He sat in the windowseat patiently, sunlight reflecting a bright white off of the simple shirt he wore. His deep green eyes sparkled in that same light.  
"Susan?"  
"I may have just thrown it all away, Marcus. The _Valkyrie_, my life, all of it. I just hope to God I can get through this one alive." She looked into those eyes, fighting the thoughts they evoked. "Have you ever had a secret that was so important you'd die to keep it?"  
His mouth twisted wryly. "This is _me_ you're talking to, remember?"  
"More important than love, Marcus. I'm talking about the kind of secret you can't even tell yourself for fear someone around you is a telepath and might hear you thinking about it."  
Reaching out, he took her hand into both of his. The warmth was a welcome sensation against her flesh. "I don't think anyone will find out if you tell me.".  
"You do have a point," she said.  
He waited a few silent moments before prompting, "Well?"  
The echo of her mother's voice rang in her ears.  
Tell no one.  
Tell no one.  
"It's Lyta," she whispered, trying to find the right place to start. "She's started a full-blown war against the Psi Corps."  
"Earthforce hasn't gotten into the fray?"  
She shook her head. "Not yet. Right now, it's telepath against telepath."  
"Yet, you're involved," he said, his voice serious. "How?"  
"They've assigned me to stop her." Her anxiety began to turn into a familiar calm as she began explaining the situation. On top of everything else, Marcus had been her only second-in-command. After two years on her own, it was nice to have that familiar sounding board back, even if it was only in her dreams. "I've tracked her down to a base on Mars. She's working with Garibaldi somehow. The only thing is, the official reports coming out of there say she's not commanding the movement anymore."  
He gave her a soft smile. "You should know better than to believe official reports, Susan. Who do they say is running things now?"  
Ignoring the scolding, she smiled widely. She was going to enjoy his reaction to this. "Does the name Alina Minette ring a bell?"  
He shook his head.  
"Well, how about Liana Stewart?"  
Surprise lit his eyes for a few seconds. His jaw dropped slightly, before he pulled himself back together. "Liana? Impossible. She's been dead for at least fifteen years."  
"Not according to what I've seen," she replied. "Those official reports you just told me not to believe, they had a sketch of the new resistance leader. This Alina Minette bears an _uncanny_ resemblance to a woman who just visited B5 a few weeks ago, a woman who was carrying Liana Stewart's identicard."  
Marcus sat back onto the windowseat, obviously stunned.  
"That's not all of it, Marcus. I've got a meeting with them tomorrow."  
"That why you're leaving your ship?"  
She nodded. "Yes. I've managed to talk Major Ryan into believing that since Lyta and I are old friends it might be good for me to work from the inside."  
"You're joining up?" he asked, his expression suggesting she had grown a third arm.  
"Yes."  
"But, you just said it's telepath against tele-." He broke off, realizing what was happening. "That's the secret, isn't it? You're a telepath."  
"Latent," she breathed, praying to God that he would understand.  
He stood, beginning to slowly pace the room. "Liana. In Valen's name. Susan, if she's alive . . ."  
"Why do I get the feeling there's something _you're_ not telling _me_?"  
"Well, I'm telling you now," he said. "Susan, if she's alive, be careful. I've known her since she was five years old. She can be _very_ dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than you. She almost killed me once without even really trying."  
"What? How?" she asked, not quite certain she wanted to hear the answer.  
"When I was fifteen, she actually taught me how to use a sword. She was born back on Earth, in London. She started studying her heritage and found out that one of her ancestors was a lord back in medieval England. She became fascinated with anything that had to do with that era. One of the metal workers on the colony did her a favor and made her a sword for her thirteenth birthday. She begged him to make me one, said she needed a sparring partner."  
"What about your brother?"  
He shook his head. "Will was too young. He couldn't have lifted the thing. So she taught me how to use it. We were sparring one day and she got me through the side. I was in the hospital for a week while it healed. Ribs were the only things keeping her from getting my lung. If she's anything like the girl I knew, she's a fighter, Susan. And a damned good one. I'd certainly rather go into a fight with her than some of the other Rangers I knew." He softly laughed. "Neroon wouldn't stand a chance."  
One nagging fact came into her mind. "Psi Corps doesn't have an Alina Minette on record. Should they be looking for Liana?"  
"They won't find her, either."  
"So, she _is_ a normal?"  
A soft, nervous laugh escaped him. "Normal? As in not a telepath? Love, you couldn't be more wrong. I suppose it's only fitting that she's teamed up with Lyta. Lyta's the only telepath I've ever seen who was on Liana's level."  
Susan's stomach sank. "What? What do you mean on Liana's level?"  
"Just that," he replied. "The Psi Corps finally found her when she was sixteen. When they tested her, she tested right off of both the telepathic _and_ telekinetic scales."  
"She's _both_?"  
He nodded. "And she has been since the age of five. That's what makes her so dangerous. She had her entire childhood to learn how to use her gifts, even refine her skills. She's a wonderful girl, Susan. Dangerous, but utterly reliable. I'd trust her with my life."  
"But, the Corps never got a hold of her?"  
"I don't think so. You see, the ship she was on exploded on its way back to Earth. I was told there were no survivors."  
Susan shook her head, still assimilating the information. "I suppose the real question here is where's she been all these years?"  
"I'd certainly love to hear the answer to that," he said, rising from the windowseat. Two short steps took him to a small chest of drawers. He stared at the rich wooden surface for what felt like an eternity. "Susan?"  
"Yes?" she asked, knowing what was coming, yet praying she was wrong.  
"You could have told me before." His voice held none of the hurt she saw in his gaze. "Of course, I seem to remember believing that we were closer friends. Maybe I was-"  
"Wrong?" she finished, following him away from the windows. Her palm wrapped around his shoulder, "No, you were right. I should have told you. I shouldn't have been _afraid_ to tell you."  
"Afraid? Of what?"  
She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Marcus. You went to Mars with Stephen. What if you'd been captured? The nightmares I had when they got John were bad enough."  
"_Sheridan_ knows?"  
The betrayal in his voice made her wince. "Out of necessity," she said, valiantly attempting to apologize. "I only told him because I didn't have any other choice."  
He turned on her, wounded. Irritation was rapidly rising in his eyes. "What about now? Do you have a choice?"  
"No, Marcus. I mean-. God, you're not going to let this go, are you?"  
She had seen him angry in life, but never had that anger been directed at her. She tried to back away, but he stepped closer, until he was within arm's reach.  
"I'll tell you what. You answer a few questions for me, and I'll think about it."  
"Why?"  
One hand reached toward her, a finger tapping her over the ear. "Since we're going to be stuck here together for a while, best get it all out in the open, right?"   
Her heart leapt into her throat, and all she could manage was a nod.  
"First question. How strong are your abilities?"  
She swallowed hard. "I've never been tested, but I think I'm a P1, tops."  
"And that means you can . . . ?"  
"If anyone tries to scan me, I'll know it," she replied, her stomach clenched tight.  
His eyes darkened dangerously. "That _can't_ be all, can it?"  
He knew she was keeping something from him, she could hear it in his voice. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "I can pick up emotions."  
"Emotions?"  
"Sometimes. Before you ask, I only had an _idea_ of how you felt."  
One dark eyebrow raised. "An idea? Was something -- hampering -- your abilities?"  
"You weren't joking when you said get it all out in the open, were you?" she asked, inwardly cursing.  
There was a thin smile on his lips as he stared into her eyes. "Not this time. Answer the question, Susan. Was there anything hampering your abilities?"  
Well, if he wanted a challenge, he was going to get one. She looked him straight in the eyes and lied. "No."  
"No? Are you _sure_?"  
"Positive. Second question?"  
She could sense that he wanted to pursue the subject, and the wicked gleam that lit his eyes suggested he had found the perfect route.  
"All right," he began, squaring his shoulders. "Second question. What, if anything, could interfere with your abilities?"  
Her lips thinned. "How in the hell am I supposed to know?"  
"Let me see . . . oh . . . _years_ of practical experience?"  
Susan groaned. "If you were still alive-"  
"You'd be dead, and with my luck, we'd _still_ be having this conversation!"  
"Thought you didn't believe in luck?" she countered.  
"You have that effect on people."  
They glared across the small space that separated them, each daring the other to break first.  
She knew what he wanted to hear, knew it might even have been the truth. It _had_ happened to her before, the last time she had allowed herself the luxury of caring.  
She had picked up something during the few nights Talia Winters had spent in her quarters. There had been something different, something almost alien, behind the telepath's blue eyes. The touch of her skin had brought images into Susan's mind, images that were far darker in nature than she had been able to comprehend. Images that she now understood with blinding clarity.  
Shadows.  
Her own emotions had kept her from seeing danger as it stood before her. The idea that those very same emotions had kept her from recognizing sanctuary as well was not that far-fetched.  
"All right," she relented, "maybe there was something in the way."  
His smile widened in triumph. "Thought so."  
"Don't get too smug about it," she said, eyes narrowed. "You're not the first person that's had that effect."  
"Pardon me if I was hoping to be the last," he shot back.  
She held up a hand toward him. "You know, I still think that's your biggest problem."  
"Problem?" he asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
"The fact that you're such a pathetically hopeless romantic. _Who_ was it left the roses at my door? Hmm?"  
Anger drained from his features. "Roses? Hate to break it to you, love, but I _never_ left any roses at your door. I seem to remember _you_ giving them to _me_."  
Susan blanched. "What? You mean . . . I didn't . . . _you_ didn't?"  
"Susan Ivanova, speechless! I never thought I'd live to see the day!" Catching himself, he added, "Wait a minute, no, I didn't, did I? Well, all the same."  
Susan, however, was still reeling. "So, how did they get there?"  
One dark eyebrow raised. "Secret admirer, perhaps?"  
"I _still_ would have thought that was you."  
Those bottomless green eyes found hers, making it a struggle to keep from getting lost. The emotions that touched her mind softened, the rage flowing away like the tide. "Really?" he asked, his voice telling her how much he wanted the words to be true.  
"As if anyone else on that station had the hots for me. Now, are you finished with the questions?"  
Folding his arms over his chest, he began to pace. "Not quite yet."  
There was a tinge of sarcasm in her voice as she said, "Great. Just great. _Of course_ I'm going to fall for a man that's just as stubborn as I am!"  
That earned her a soft smile. "Thank you."  
"For what?"  
"Clearing something up for me," he said, his steps coming to a halt. "I think that also gives me the last question."  
She was beginning to get a very bad feeling. "That would be?"  
"How long did I, well, bloody hell. Give me another minute."  
She felt him reaching for the right words, but failing. Still, she was able to get the direction of his search. Her steps brought her to his side. "Just as long, I think," she mused, her fingers wrapping around his shoulder. "I just wish I'd had the guts to admit it before it was too late. That answer your question?"  
The gaze that met hers was as soft as a caress. "Yes," he whispered.  
"Marcus?"  
"Yes?"  
Her fingers slowly curled into his dark hair. "_Is_ it too late?"  
"Don't know," he shrugged.  
Mustering all of her courage, she gently drew his face to hers. Closing her eyes, she made a soft confession against his lips. "I love you, too."  
Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest as, at the precise instant their lips met, the thunderous chiming of a grandfather clock sounded from somewhere in the palace. Her body whirled to face the doorway.  
Her eyes, however, were met with a different sight.  
The room that surrounded her was dark, cold . . . and empty.  
"Damn it!"  
Her link chimed. Reaching to the shelf beside the bed, she fought the urge to throw the small device across the room.  
"Ivanova, go."  
"We're thirty minutes out from the jump point, Captain," O'Connell's voice spoke from the small speaker. "You asked to be notified."  
Susan dragged herself out of the bed, realizing that killing her second-in-command for following orders might not look good in her record. "I did, didn't I? All right. Thank you, Mister O'Connell. Ivanova out."  
Trudging to her closet, she pulled out the only uniform she had not packed the night before. Years of practice had her hair pulled into a tight braid in a matter of seconds.  
"Well," she told her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "There's always tomorrow night." 

[End part 10 of ?]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	11. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 11

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_March 29, 2264_

Lyta stared through the multiple panes of glass at the main dome of Mars Colony. Over a kilometer away and her skin still crawled from the proximity. Even Centauri Prime would not have been far enough away from him.  
Alfred Bester had that effect on people.  
The expression that had been on the little man's face all those years ago was burned into her mind forever. A serial murderer, the lowest form of life known to humanity. Death would have been preferable to the fate Alfred Bester had doled out. She could still see the poor soul trying desperately to claw out his own eyes. Anything to be rid of the terrors that Bester had implanted deep inside the man's brain.  
One Psi Cop had played judge, jury and executioner for a crime against 'his telepaths.' She had stood silent, allowing the perversion of justice to happen.  
If it were the last thing she did, Lyta would make certain Bester paid for his crimes.  
Forcing thoughts of revenge into the back of her mind, she turned away from the window and back to the luxurious rooms that Garibaldi called home. The sheer amount of space the home occupied spoke volumes about the building's original owner, the late William Edgars. Money had been no object for the corporate magnate, which was obvious in the simple luxury of real oranges which still occupied the occasional fruit bowls around the house. Lyta knew how much it had cost to get perishables shipped to Babylon Five, and Mars was proving just as formidable. It took someone of means to get little luxuries like that. William Edgars had been that kind of person.  
Now, the same could be said for Michael Garibaldi.  
Marrying a rich widow had a way of doing that to a man.  
Alina and Andrew sat side-by-side on the long sofa, each with a report in hand. She smiled softly at the sight. They had barely known each other a month, yet they worked perfectly together.  
Of course, the mutual attraction she had sensed since their first meeting had _absolutely_ nothing to do with it. It reminded her of two other people she had known not so long ago.  
Lyta silently prayed to deities both Vorlon and human that these two didn't share the same fate.  
Lowering herself into an overstuffed chair, Lyta picked up a report and began perusing its contents. It was a listing of Psi Cop assignments dated only a week previous. She was not certain from where Garibaldi's sources came, but she was suddenly more thankful for them.  
If those same sources could only have obtained Cassandra Alexander's cooperation. Twenty-two years old, and her niece was still causing her trouble. Lyta Alexander was now forced to attempt the impossible, get Susan Ivanova to go along with what had to be the most audacious plan since the retaking of Earth.  
Sadness crept into Lyta's mind. A profound sadness that she could not quite place, until she saw Alina wipe a hand across her eyes. Andrew reached across, taking Alina's free hand.  
"Alina?" he asked. "What is it?"  
Her green eyes raised to the doorway, and a longing smile appeared on her delicate features. She shook Andrew's hand off as she stood. "Marcus," she whispered, wiping away another tear.  
Andrew's eyes lowered to Lyta questioningly. All she could do was shrug.  
"What are you picking up?" Lyta asked.  
Alina's breathing became labored, and Lyta could sense that the woman was fighting to stay in control. "Him," she stated. "I haven't felt it for years, but it's him."  
Andrew pulled himself up, his expression matching the concern Lyta felt. "How?"  
"I don't know," Alina said. "But I'd know his telepathic signature anywhere."  
"Telepathic signatures can't be faked," Lyta said. "Not even Bester could do that."  
"Then how-?"  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Garibaldi interrupted, pushing open the door to the room. "I believe our last guest has arrived."  
The familiar face of Susan Ivanova strode through the doorway. Garibaldi stepped outside, closing the door. Lyta smiled widely at the sight of her old friend, but could not help the thought of what Alina had sensed. There _was_ something different about Ivanova, something other than the Earthforce blues she wore. She appeared tired, more haggard. No amount of makeup could hide the dark circles etched under her blue eyes. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled back into a braid that looked tight enough to give someone a headache. Susan stood stock-still, a military precision that Lyta knew was old habit, nothing more. She was convinced that Susan had even lost weight. She could not help but be concerned by the vision that stood before her, yet Lyta made every effort to hide her thoughts.  
Lyta attempted to speak, but stopped when she saw the look in Susan's eyes. Her old friend had locked gazes with Alina, and neither showed any sign of relenting.  
"You must be Ivanova," Alina warily said.  
Susan squared her shoulders. "Miss Minette. Or, should I say Stewart?"  
Alina's eyes lowered. "She's dead," Alina stated. "Fifteen-"  
"Fifteen years ago," Susan finished, stepping across the room to where Alina stood. "Thanks, but I don't need the history lesson. I know all about you. Do they?"  
Lyta put a hand to Alina's arm. "We know all we need to know. That's enough. But, how did you find out?"  
"Mutual friend," she replied. "He thought you were dead."  
"He was right. It's a shame I can't tell him that personally." Alina looked up, directly into Susan's eyes. "Or can I?"  
It was Susan's turn to look surprised. "He's dead. You know that."  
Lyta knew the second she heard the tone of Susan's voice that the woman didn't believe any of what she was saying. Her mouth opened, closing again before words escaped. They had all suspected that Susan knew that Marcus was alive, but what Lyta heard in Susan Ivanova's voice suggested more. The fact that Alina had sensed Marcus's presence right before Susan walked into the room was significant. The question was, how? Something beyond Marcus's apparent death had happened that night in Medlab. The real trick was figuring out what, and the only clue she had stood right before her, arguing with her second-in-command.  
"Is he?" Alina countered. "How sure are _you_ that he's dead?"  
"Ladies," Andrew interceded. "Can we please sit down and discuss this like rational human beings?"  
Alina crossed her arms over her chest, still staring into Susan's eyes. "I want an answer. It was your order that stuck him in that tube, _Captain_. What's he doing in there if he's dead? Why waste the station's resources?"  
"I don't have to explain myself to you," Susan glowered. "I'm starting to wonder why I even came down here."  
Lyta stepped forward, putting herself between the two women. "Susan, Alina, Andrew's right. We need to sit down and talk. Personal business can wait until later. Now, can we please call a cease-fire?"  
"I didn't shoot first," Alina stated. "I think you should ask her."  
One copper eyebrow raised. "Susan? Seems to me like you two should try to get along, for Marcus at least."  
Susan stared hard at Alina, then visibly relaxed. "All right."  
Alina nodded, allowing Andrew to pull her back down to the sofa. "Now," she said. "You called this meeting, Captain. What is it you need?"  
Susan's eyes came to rest on Lyta. "I'm joining up."  
Lyta's jaw dropped. "You're _what_?"  
"I'm joining you."  
"Well, _that_ certainly makes things easier," Andrew commented.  
"Makes what easier?" Susan asked.  
Alina looked over at Andrew, then raised her eyes to Susan. "We were about to ask for your help. Lyta told me-."  
"I told her about your history with Bester and the Corps," Lyta interrupted. "We need somebody with your skills, Susan. Desperately."  
Susan settled into a large white chair. "My skills?"  
"Well, your skills and your connections," Lyta admitted with a sheepish smile. "You're the only person I can think of that could pull off this job."  
"What's the job?"  
"Infiltration," Alina stated. "We need a person to work on the inside."  
"Inside Psi Corps?" Susan asked, disgust in her voice. "Not on your life."  
"It won't be for long," Lyta consoled. "Maybe a month."  
Susan's jaw dropped. "A month! Lyta, do you have any idea what Bester could do to me in a month?"  
Lyta leaned back in her chair. "Yes, I do," she replied. "I've seen the kind of damage he can do in an hour. I can protect you, but I don't think you're going to like how."  
Susan visibly tensed. "How?"  
"Blocks. You can block a P5 easily on your own, but to beat someone like Bester you'll need reinforcements."  
"And exactly how do you plan on setting that up?"  
Lyta pursed her lips, debating whether to tell Susan what she knew. "Training, mostly. I can help you at a distance, too, that way if he catches you-"  
"No way," Susan stated. "Nobody's getting into my head, and I am _not_ going anywhere near the Corps. Find another guinea pig for your mission."  
"We're fighting the Corps, _Captain_. What precisely do you plan on doing, sitting on your ass in the barracks with the rest of the children until the war's over?" Alina drily enquired.  
Lyta's eyes shot open. "Alina, you don't-"  
"No, Lyta," the small woman interrupted. "The woman who claimed to be the right hand of God comes down from her steel pedestal to join us. We give her a mission right up her alley and _then_ she tells us she doesn't want to go anywhere near the enemy? Who did you think we were fighting, Captain, Santa Claus?"  
Susan's jaw tightened. "I know precisely who you're fighting."  
Alina gathered the paperwork that she had been reading, slipped it into a folder, and rose from the sofa. "Then I suggest you think long and hard on whether you _truly_ want to be here. Like it or not, you _will_ engage the enemy at some point. That is one risk that cannot be avoided by anyone working with us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a mission to plan, with or without your assistance."  
Turning on her heel, the small brunette strode to the doorway. Within seconds, she was gone.  
* Andrew? * Lyta asked.  
He shrugged. * Not a clue. I'll go talk to her. *  
When they were alone, Susan burst out of her chair. "You let _that_ take over? What the hell were you thinking, Lyta?"  
She chose to ignore the insult. "I could ask you the same question. I refuse to believe you didn't know what was going on down here, Susan. You're too good for that. You said you were here to join us, why do I have a feeling that's not the truth?"  
Susan took a deep breath. Lyta could feel that something serious was happening to her old friend. The person she had known would not have made such a scene with Alina, at least, not on their first meeting. When Susan had said things were different, she hadn't been lying. If the visual clues hadn't been enough, the thoughts Susan Ivanova was broadcasting to anyone who could listen would have been just as convincing.  
She picked up on Susan's worry about her ship, her crew, her career, and whether or not she was throwing everything away. For some reason, she was also concerned that Lyta might find out something, but what that information was remained a mystery. Last, but certainly not least, Susan was also worried about Marcus.  
That was the thought that piqued Lyta's curiosity. "Susan?" she prompted.  
"It's the truth," Susan said, slowly shaking her head. "I don't know. Just when I thought I was okay with what happened-"  
"Alina shows up to remind you?"  
Susan nodded. "It's not just her, though. There have been some strange things going on lately."  
Lyta smiled. "Well, if you're going to join us, it's just going to get stranger. I can tell you that from experience."  
"Stranger?" Susan asked, a pained expression on her features. "It can't get stranger."  
A hand fell on Susan's arm. "You've never bunked down with three hundred telepaths before, have you?"  
"No."  
"Well, prepare yourself for some _interesting_ dreams."  
Susan flinched, her surface thoughts turning to Marcus. "Couldn't get any more interesting than the ones I've been having," she stated.  
Lyta stepped back from her old friend, turning and slowly walking toward the window. She had never seen Susan this deeply affected by anything in the years they had known each other. Not even during the time they had thought Sheridan lost at Z'ha'dum had Susan acted this unusually. The normally tightly composed woman's moods were changing with the ebb and flow of a tide. The Susan she had known would have thrown herself into her work after Marcus's apparent death, which Lyta knew was precisely what she had attempted to do in taking over the _Valkyrie_. Something was different. Something about Marcus's actions had changed Susan Ivanova, and that change reached down to her very soul.  
If Garibaldi was right, and Marcus's actions had been taken out of love, that would have explained a lot of what she was seeing.  
Lyta had only really spoken with the Ranger once, but she had inherently liked the man. There had been something innately appealing about his devil-may-care personality. Yet, on speaking with him, she had felt the sincerity and genuinely kind soul behind the easygoing exterior. Like Susan and Delenn, he had treated her almost as if he didn't realize what she was. He had always spoken to her as if she were still a human being.  
All points considered, that meant more to Lyta Alexander than the world.  
She had picked up on his concern for Susan even then, as they were speeding toward a date with destiny at Coriana Six. They had been going into the final battle of the Shadow War, and Marcus's all-consuming thoughts had been of Susan. When he persuaded that young Ranger into allowing him to pilot the shuttle over to Susan's White Star, Lyta hadn't been able to keep the smile in check. She hadn't had to read Marcus's thoughts to know what he was doing. If it was going to be his time to die, he wanted it to be at Susan Ivanova's side.  
His wish had apparently been granted a few months too late.  
The tragedy of it all brought a tear to Lyta's eye.  
It reminded her too much of Byron.  
"Susan," Lyta finally spoke. "If you want to stay with us and take on the Corps, you're welcome to. We could use another person with a military background. Alina's been having to plan this raid on Syria Planum by herself. Since you would be involved, I think you should be in on the planning, too."  
"But, you're worried," Susan added.  
"Yes," Lyta admitted. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, what about Earthforce? What about your ship? I know how much you wanted that."  
Susan hesitated, and Lyta felt her trying to hide her surface thoughts. Still, Lyta's strength allowed her to pick up pieces. There was something about a Major Ryan, and something about playing both ends against the middle. Lyta knew that phrase, and the alarm bells began going off in her own mind. The Susan Ivanova she had known was utterly trustworthy. That much had been true before Susan had ever met Marcus. What was going on?  
"Susan, what are you not telling me?" she asked, fighting to keep the accusation out of her voice.  
Ivanova groaned. "You're just as bad as Marcus."  
She didn't allow the non sequitur to throw her from her course. "Susan Ivanova, you are not getting anywhere near my people until you tell me what's really going on here. And I want the truth this time."  
"If you're scanning me-" Ivanova warned.  
"You'd know it," Lyta countered. "Your surface thoughts are coming through like ISN on a good day. If I can't trust you, I won't let you anywhere near the camp, do you understand?"  
Susan nodded, hesitating for only a moment. Lyta felt the weight of a monumental decision being made. "What Earthforce thinks is the truth isn't, and it never will be. I want to see the Corps gone just as much as you do. I owe that to my mother. I'm on _your_ side, Lyta. You can trust me."  
Lyta assessed the information Susan was trying to give, curious as to what Ivanova had told Earthforce. If she was still in _their_ good graces, they could easily use that to get her into Syria Planum. Susan's surface thoughts suggested that her own words were the complete truth.  
Lyta smiled. Life was getting a little too easy.  
"All right," she stated. "If you're sure you can handle being around so many telepaths, you're welcome to join us. Just promise me you'll think about the mission we proposed?"  
Susan Ivanova stoically met Lyta's gaze, and nodded. "I'll think about it."

[End Part 11]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	12. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 12

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_March 30, 2264_

"It'll never work," Susan muttered as she walked the corridors of the underground base. "Never."  
It was ludicrous, really. The idea of _her_ working inside the Corps? Willingly working around Bester?  
No, it was worse than ludicrous. The precise word escaped her, but she did know that whatever it was, it certainly described that plan.  
And the idea of having someone poking around in her head, well, that was even more insane. What if they found-?  
"What's so absurd about the mission?"  
Susan clenched her teeth at the sound of Alina Minette's voice. Why was this woman baiting her at every turn? For that matter, how had Marcus ever befriended a woman so unbelievably annoying?  
Resisting her urge to leave the area, Susan found Alina standing in an adjoining chamber, sweat matting the small woman's black hair as if she had just finished exercising. She walked up just in time to catch a painfully familiar vision, the sight of a fighting pike collapsing into itself. Joy bloomed like fireworks in the back of her mind, overwhelming her anger. The sight had managed to reach Marcus.  
"You're with the Rangers?" Susan asked.  
Alina wiped a hand across her brow. "Yes and no."  
"And you've also been around the Vorlons," she quipped, only to be surprised by the look of distaste that appeared on Alina's delicate features.  
"Too much, I'm afraid."  
"What? How? I mean, Lyta-"  
"Lyta saw what they wanted her to see."  
Susan shook her head. "I don't get it. I mean, I thought they always did that. What was different with you?"  
"I saw them for the monsters they really were," she replied. The sight of the petite woman reaching for what looked like an antique sword gave Susan a moment's pause. Alina, however, continued unabated. "A little lesson I was always trying to teach our mutual friend. Pretense is, for the most part, a waste of time. To be honest with you, they were the first race I couldn't scan on sight."  
"So you found other ways around the problem," Susan said. "That proves it, you _did_ grow up with him, didn't you?"  
Alina smiled for the first time since they had met. "Eleven glorious years."  
"Eleven years?"  
Alina nodded. "And I'd be more than happy to tell you what you want to know, Susan."  
She balked at the familiarity of her own name, especially in such a painfully similar accent, but it was brief. "Thank you, Miss-"  
"Alina," she quickly finished. With a conspiratorial smile that reached all the way to her emerald green eyes, she added, "Liana's on my identicard, but that's only to drive Psi Corps bonkers."  
Susan raised an eyebrow. "Does it work?"  
Alina shrugged. "Andrew told me that he was the office equivalent of this Bester everyone has been talking about. Desk job, really, but he used to coordinate the Psi Cops that were out searching for rogues. For a while, I was one of those rogues. They stopped looking for me about ten years ago and declared me dead. Apparently, every time I use the identicard it gets reported to the Psi Cops. I've only used the thing maybe a dozen times in the last three years, but from what Andrew tells me it throws the Cops into a fit. So, yes, I suppose it works."  
The smile that spread across Alina's features was easy to return. "I can just bet."  
A silence began to stretch between them, growing into awkward proportions, until finally Alina said, "Catch."  
Before Susan realized precisely what Alina was referring to, the woman's collapsed pike was flying through the air. Susan caught the cylinder in one hand, inspecting the tiniest detail of the Minbari design. The things had fascinated her from the first instant she had seen one used. To hold one in her hand seemed familiar, somehow. It felt as if she were holding an artifact from the past, yet not hers.  
"I'll make you a deal, Captain Susan Ivanova," Alina said, cutting into her thoughts.  
All of Susan's alarm bells went off. "What kind of deal?"  
Alina lifted the sword before her, and Susan realized that the only thing that had been antique about it was the sheath. A whisper of leather against metal reached her ears as Alina drew the sword. The most unusual jewels Susan had ever seen were set into the hilt. The texture of the blade looked almost like the skin of a White Star. "You are a leader, Captain, not a follower. That much I remember from going into battle with you. We need your leadership and your strength here, yet you cannot lead us. Not on your own, and certainly not in the public's eye. Too much is at stake to allow pride to get in the way. I suggest we do away with the inevitable power struggle right now. My deal comes from an old tradition, really. If you can best me in a fight, then you will become our third. Your word will carry the same weight as mine or Lyta's. You will have a part in everything that goes on down here, and you will lead the charge once again."  
Susan moistened her lips, Marcus's warnings replaying in her mind. "And if I lose?"  
"You go along with the Syria Planum mission, no questions asked. Lyta and I continue to command this unit by ourselves."  
The weight of the collapsed pike in her hand was almost comforting as Susan contemplated the options. Truth be told, she simply was not that familiar with using a pike in hand-to-hand combat. Her self-defense training had never covered using such a weapon. Still, if she had some weight in the command of this unit, she might be able to find a way to end the bloodshed before it got any worse, before the normals got involved. It was a risk she was compelled to take. Certain that she didn't stand much of a chance in the fight, she still nodded her assent. "Okay, you've got a deal."  
What details she could get from touching the pike told her nothing about how to make it extend. There were no switches, no buttons, nothing of use. It was nothing like the modern Minbari technology to which she had grown accustomed. She was about to ask for assistance when a thought struck. Her fingers moved over the slim cylinder, finding three very specific, very unmarked pressure points. Something told her that if she pressed them in a particular order, it would open the pike. With nothing to lose, she picked the first order that came to mind and triggered the points. The pike flashed into existence.  
"Impressive," Alina stated. With a twirl of the sword, it came to rest in a two-handed grip. "As Lyta's friends the Vorlons would say, and so it begins."  
She struggled to recall the times she had seen Marcus in combat, remembering the movements as much as her normally eidetic memory would allow. The woman that challenged her was a known fighter, and that was by Marcus's standards.  
Susan blocked Alina's first few attacks without much effort, more acquainting herself with the pike than anything else. She blocked a blow from overhead, then from the side. One surprisingly restrained attack after another, until Susan realized that Alina was allowing her the time she needed to get comfortable with her weapon.  
She felt knowledge that she hadn't even known she had seeping into her mind. Alina made a feint toward her side, and Susan blocked it easily. The clang of exotic metals filled the tunnels as Susan finally began her attacks. Adjusting her grip, Susan thrust her left hand forward, bringing the lower level of the pike out at knee-level. When that attack was parried, she thrust the other arm forward. Alina's sword rose just in time to block the blow to the head.  
Alina went on the offensive once again. Overhead attacks were followed by attacks at Susan's knees, or her side. She quickly realized that Marcus had been right. This woman was a fighter, and a damned good one.  
Susan regretted lowering her guard so very briefly as the sword made contact with her left arm. Suppressing the yelp that wanted desperately to escape, Susan mentally slapped herself. Adjusting her grip, she brought herself back to the fight, all the while worrying about what felt like a deep gash in her left shoulder.  
Faster and faster the attacks came.  
Faster and faster Alina parried them all.  
Susan attempted to strike at every weakness she could find, until finally she could not think of another method of attack. A warmth began to work its way down her arm, numbness coursing into her hand. Great. Somehow, Alina's blade had clipped a nerve as well as the muscle. If she didn't think of something soon, bring this fight to a close, she was going to lose the arm. That was when the idea slipped into her brain. It was a risky move, one Susan was not even certain she could accomplish physically, yet she had to try.  
Ignoring the pain, she concentrated her attacks on Alina's sword and hands and allowed what felt like instinct to take over. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, an attack here, a parry there, until finally she got the opening that her plan required. One stroke of the pike disarmed the small brunette, while another blow to the back of her knees brought her to the floor. Susan brought one end of the pike to rest at Alina's chest, pinning her down.  
When she had caught her breath, Alina's emerald green eyes looked up, and a smile spread wide across her face. "Welcome back, Marcus."  
"What?" Susan asked, her vision beginning to blur at the edges.  
Alina's eyes went to Susan's arm, and her smile turned to an expression of concern. "You're losing blood. Let me help you."  
Susan shook her head, fighting the dizziness. "Why did you just call me Marcus?"  
"Sit down, Susan. I'll explain after I know you're all right."  
She recognized the tone in Alina's voice. After all, she had used it herself on more than one occasion. It demanded no question of her word. Another wave of dizziness swept over her, and her balance wavered. She slowly lowered herself to the floor, the pike clattering to the ground at her side.  
Alina crawled the small distance between them, examining the wound with a level of attention that Susan hadn't seen since her last stay in Stephen Franklin's care. "Well, thank the Great Maker you were wearing short sleeves," Alina observed. "This wound is going to be hard enough to take care of without worrying about stray fibers in it. I didn't mean to clip you this hard, really."  
Susan was about to ask how she planned on doing such a thing when her frazzled nerve endings began registering a tingle in her shoulder. Dismissing it as a simple case of shock, she closed her eyes and fought to regain some sense of balance. Without her vision, the spinning sensation slowed to something a little more manageable.  
That was when the tingle intensified.  
Concentrating on the injury, Susan focussed on the sensations she was getting from her nerve endings. The numbness slowly left her hand, leaving behind full sensation. Her bicep involuntarily contracted as whatever was happening to the muscle continued. She could remember the feeling of her skin being sliced open when it had happened. Now, however, it felt as if the torn flesh were knitting back together on its own.  
The sheer surprise of that realization caused Susan to open her eyes, looking down at her injured arm. Where she expected to see a gaping slice in her upper arm, there was the barest of cuts inside a flesh-colored line, all of which were centered inside bright purple skin. "What the hell?"  
"Quiet," Alina chastised. "I'm trying to concentrate."  
"You're what?"  
There was no answer.  
While Susan continued to watch, the cut seemed to close itself. Deep within her muscles the fibers were knitting together, repairing themselves with very unsettling sensations. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again when speech proved elusive.  
Silence filled the space between them, broken only by the occasional sound of Alina's labored breathing. Moments that felt like hours passed, until Alina finally backed away. When Susan caught her emerald eyes, she could see the exhaustion in the small woman's gaze. "You okay?" she asked.  
Alina nodded. "Yes. Just tired. Stupid thing to do after a practice session. Really stupid."  
Susan looked down at her arm, where only a purple bruise remained. "How did you-?"  
"The bruise will have to heal on its own, I'm afraid. It costs more energy than it's worth."  
Susan's fingers went to the bruise. The skin was smooth to the touch, bearing no other sign of the injury than the discoloration. "You did this?" Susan asked, still not believing it herself.  
Alina nodded. "Little something I learned from the Vorlons."  
"_They_ taught you? Why?"  
"They had their reasons. Susan, I can guarantee those neural blocks."  
Susan stared into Alina's green eyes, and knew that she meant what she had said. Something still bothered her however. "How do you propose that?"  
Alina took a deep breath. "The Vorlons showed me a map of the human brain, including the neural pathways that hold what we call the memory. I can put up blocks there. Not permanently, of course, but with enough strength that no Psi Cop alive could get through them."  
"And how do we test these blocks?"  
"Andrew can help. He's a high P12 and knows all of the Psi Cop tricks. Please don't think I'm trying to pressure you into this, Susan. You won. Your word is as strong as mine or Lyta's. I can't make you do this. All I can ask is that you'll promise me you will consider it."  
Susan swallowed hard. "I'll think about it, Alina. I'll think about it."

[End Part 12]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	13. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 13

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_March 31, 2264_

"Three hundred a week or no deal."  
Lyta stared icily across the conference table at her 'business partner,' one very irritated Michael Garibaldi. "Come on, Michael. It's not like the company can't afford it."  
Garibaldi huffed. "If I was trying to give it away-"  
"You'd pick a better charity, I know. Just how badly do you want those black projects, anyway?"  
Folding his arms on the table, he leaned forward. "What if one of those projects endangered your people, Lyta? Wouldn't you want to know about it?"  
"You mean the virus Edgars was working on?"  
Garibaldi's eyes narrowed. "How did you-?"  
"When you wanted me to get through Bester's blocks. I was hoping Susan might be able to look for that vial while she was in Syria Planum."  
"Andrew doesn't know anything about it?"  
Lyta shook her head. "That's what bothers me. Bester's keeping some very nasty little secrets." Her fist hit the table as her unpredictable subconscious threw her an idea. "That's it, Michael! That's the inroad we've been looking for!"  
"The virus? If Psi Corps knows-"  
"That's just it, they don't." She smiled widely as she considered the plan. Yes, it just might work. "We could say, when you took over the company, you discovered that William Edgars had kept a few projects to himself. It's the truth, so a surface scan wouldn't give you away. You found out about the virus. Your investigation led you to believe someone in the Corps was involved, so you decided to do your civic duty and warn the Corps about it. You call up the Director and tell him about your suspicions, and that the only vial Edgars had on record disappeared when he was killed."  
Garibaldi nodded. "That tracks, but, what does this have to do with Ivanova?"  
"Everything." Lyta's smile turned venomous. "Officially, she resigned from Earthforce. What if you put her on payroll, and assign her to working as your lead investigator?"  
Michael Garibaldi shook his head in disbelief. "And have her at the head of a Corps investigation? It's got a lot of potential, Lyta. Really, it's good. She'd be in the position of power, and you know how much she'd just love to stick it to Bester. If anyone could pull his slimy little secrets out into the open, it's Ivanova."  
"Not to mention it gives you a reason to be there when we hit the base," Lyta added. "You can always go check up on her. Who trusts communication links these days, anyway?"  
Garibaldi leaned back, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His steepled fingers came to rest against his pursed lips. Lyta sensed he was worried about something, and money was at the surface of his thoughts.  
"Michael, you can put Susan on the books the same way you can put my people there. Consider it research and development expenses."  
He gave a grudging nod. "I suppose I can backdate the files on your people, make it look like I hired them months ago."  
"And Susan?"  
"I can make it believable," he stated. "Besides, she's one of the best hackers I've ever seen. Sheridan told me about one of the jobs she pulled off once. She helped save a lot of Narns during the Centauri occupation."  
Lyta sighed with relief. "Does this mean you're accepting some of my people?"  
Garibaldi nodded. "If you can promise me there won't be a repeat performance of what happened to the ambassadors on Babylon Five, we've got a deal."  
Her eyes somberly met his, remembering the fiasco that a few renegade telepaths had created. "I promise, Michael. I promise."

----------

_April 1, 2264_

After hours of searching, Susan finally found Lyta in the main conference area. The redhead was pouring over more paperwork than Susan could recall seeing in a very long while. "Lyta?" she ventured.  
"Yes?" The redhead raised her eyes to Susan's, and a familiar expression rested in that coppery gaze. Susan had seen it in the mirror on more than one occasion during her command of Babylon Five.  
She stepped toward the conference table. After a night spent mentally rehearsing the scenario, her stomach still felt as if a thundercloud were forming in its depths. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"  
Lyta closed the folder she had been reading, placing it casually on the table. "Of course. What do you need?"  
Susan shuffled a foot. "In private?"  
One eyebrow raised as she pulled herself out of the chair. "I think I know just the spot where nobody will bug us."  
She followed Lyta down tunnel after tunnel, the voices that had been tearing at Susan's telepathic walls growing soft. When they had reached the point where she could barely hear them, Lyta stopped walking.  
"This should do," she stated. "We're secluded enough that _I_ can barely hear the rest of our people. And last I checked, Michael doesn't have any security cameras run this deep into the tunnels."  
Susan could not resist a small, nervous, laugh. "Why am I not surprised?"  
Lyta scrutinized her closely, yet Susan felt no attempt at a telepathic contact. "What is it, Susan?" she asked, concern written across her features.  
Unable to help herself, Susan began to slowly pace the room. "I need to ask you about something . . . well . . . personal."  
"Not a problem," Lyta replied. "This doesn't have anything to do with what happened with Alina the other night, does it?"  
"In a way, yes."  
The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what do you need to know?"  
Susan's pacing halted, and she turned to look directly into Lyta's gaze. If it was time to put it all on the line, might as well make it short and sweet. "When you were carrying around Kosh, what was it like?"  
The surprise on Lyta's features told Susan that she hadn't been expecting _that_ particular question. "What was it like? What exactly do you mean?"  
Susan took a deep breath, trying to answer that same question for herself. "Well," she began, thinking aloud, "I mean, what did it feel like? Could you talk to him? Did he talk to you? What did it do to your dreams?"  
A slow smile worked its way onto Lyta's features. "I think I see where you're going," she said. "I could talk to him sometimes. He was always more alert than I was. It was like he could tie into my telepathic abilities. He kept me out of so much trouble because he could always see it before I did. He made me a better person, I think. I know I was always happier when he was with me. I didn't think about everything they had done to me. It was like I had finally figured out what I was meant to be."  
Susan smiled. "Sounds like you were in love with him."  
"Maybe I was," Lyta wistfully replied.  
"Was it like that at first?"  
Lyta slowly shook her head. "I tried to block him out, just to see if I could still do it. Then I got used to him there. The longer I carried him, the harder it became to block him out."  
Susan's eyes shot to the floor. She could hardly believe she was having this conversation. "Did he ever take over?"  
"Take over? How?"  
That was a good question. "Well, say you were in trouble and you didn't know how to get out of it. Did he ever, well-"  
"Do what needed to be done?"  
Susan nodded.  
Lyta shook her head. "I was never in that kind of situation."  
"Do you think he could have?"  
"Probably."  
Susan ran a hand over her chocolate brown hair. "Lyta, how do I stop it?"  
"Do you want to?" the redhead nonchalantly asked.  
Susan's stomach flipped as she finally considered that question. It had been an easy decision up to that point.  
Nobody got into her head.  
Ever.  
This was simply not allowed.  
Nobody would ever spoil what she had felt with her mother.  
Nobody.  
Until now.  
Muttering a few select Russian oaths against Marcus's parents as well as a great number of his ancestors, Susan slowly shook her head. "Can I at least block him from time to time?"  
Lyta smiled. "After those first few tries, I never figured out how to block Kosh. But, Susan, your situation is not exactly the same as mine was. The same rules may not apply."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well," she began, seeming to search for the right words, "it's not a pretty way to explain it, but here goes. Kosh wasn't keeping me alive, Susan. That's not true about you and Marcus. There isn't any place for him to go anymore. I hate to say it, but the person you might want to talk to is President Sheridan."  
Susan groaned. If it was this much trouble explaining this to Lyta, how would she _ever_ explain it to John Sheridan? "I can't talk to him about this, Lyta. It's hard enough just talking to you."  
One copper eyebrow raised. "At least you're talking about it."  
"Wait a minute," Susan said as a realization struck. "I never told you what happened that night. How did you know?"  
Lyta reached forward, placing a hand on Susan's arm. "I was there when Stephen destroyed the machine. It was after you had gone. It was the middle of the night; he was alone and hysterical. I could sense him a hundred feet away."  
Susan felt the color drain from her features. "How much did he tell you?"  
"Nothing. He refused to talk about what had happened. All he did was sit there and take apart that machine piece by piece. Then he put the pieces into the recycling chute. He kept asking why he had to pick friends that were so stubborn and pigheaded, and why love had to make people so stupid. Considering that you had just left, and Marcus was suddenly gone, it seemed logical. I didn't know for sure until the other day."  
"What happened then?"  
Lyta's eyes fell to the floor. "When you walked into the room back at Michael's house, do you remember feeling anything? I mean, did you feel anything that you might have thought was telepathic?"  
Susan shook her head. "No, why?"  
"You're sure? Nothing at all?"  
"Positive."  
"That proves it," Lyta said with a sigh. "Susan, right before you walked in, Alina picked up a familiar telepathic signature. She recognized Marcus."   
"She's sure of it?"  
Lyta nodded. "Can I give you one last piece of advice?"  
"I'll take whatever I can get."  
"I hope you weren't very attached to the idea of privacy, because you'll never have it again. Unless . . . ."  
"Unless what?"  
Lyta visibly caught herself. "Unless you believe in miracles."

[End Part 13]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	14. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 14

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 2, 2264_

The voices of twenty-one men and women greeted Alina as she stepped into the packed meeting room. Their collective curiosity was palpable as she crossed the threshold. Why were they there? What did _they_ have in common? The lone familiar voice in the din was doing his best to answer their questions without revealing too much, but most of the answers she heard falling from Andrew Keene's lips consisted of statements that Alina would explain everything when she arrived.  
The realization that she was finally there calmed the room to some extent. Andrew turned away from speaking with a slender, dark-haired woman with a cafe au lait complexion named Elizabeth Graves. Her file had said that she was a high P11, not a violent person, but still capable of causing quite a bit of trouble whenever she wanted. She was just the kind of person Alina needed for this project.  
Alina's spirit warmed at the smile that spread across his features as he crossed the room. "They're ready whenever you are," he said.  
She stared at the faces that surrounded her, their presence the fruit of hours of painstaking research. If she included herself and Andrew, she had twenty-two people for this project, all high-level telepaths or telekinetics. She hadn't planned for there to be an even split between men and women, or an even split between telepaths and telekinetics, counting herself as a telekinetic, but that was what the criteria used for the Minbari experiment had yielded.  
When she considered that twenty-two had always been her lucky number, she could not help but appreciate the irony.  
"Ladies and gentlemen," she called. "If you could please get comfortable, we'll begin."  
A few of the women lowered themselves to the floor, the others finding the scant few chairs that had been scraped together for this meeting. The men either remained standing or slid onto the few crates that had been scattered about the area. When all were settled, Alina stepped forward.  
"First, I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being here this evening. I know you all have questions about what's going on. I apologize for the level of secrecy that was involved in gathering you all here, but please believe me when I say that the secrecy was and will remain necessary. I have called you all together for a project that is so sensitive that it must remain a secret even from your own families. We simply cannot allow the knowledge that will be gained here to reach the Corps, and I am willing to take any and all measures necessary to ensure that it does not."  
She paused, allowing her words to register with her audience.  
"If anyone here has difficulty working within this scenario, I recommend you leave the room now before any sensitive information is given out. I assure you that you will suffer no consequences should you decide to leave."  
When no one moved to go, Alina smiled and nodded. "Good. Now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to get down to business. I know you all are curious as to why you are here, what you all have in common. You were all chosen for your superior ratings and past history of non-violent behavior, which is integral to this movement, as well as this project. Our intent is to heal, not hurt."  
With measured steps, Alina began to walk around the room. She took in the faces that had been nothing more than photographs in a file before that moment. A hand on a shoulder here, a pat on the back there, and their confidence rose. Curiosity ebbed away. She could sense the faith they had in her, in the movement, and especially in a project they knew nothing about.  
If she lived a millennium, she would never understand the human race's capacity for blind faith and self-delusion.   
"Not only will we heal," she continued, "but our intent is to possibly even cheat death itself. Over the next few months, I will train each of you individually as well as in teams. I will tell you all right now that the training will be personalized. Some of the things I will teach you will be the same, some will not, but be certain that what I will teach you is absolutely necessary for this project to succeed."  
"Alina?" Andrew asked.  
"Yes?"  
He stepped forward, head bowed in thought. "Well, I was thinking that we can't exactly run around calling this 'the project'. It needs a name."  
She arched a dark eyebrow. "And your idea would be?"  
"The information that Delenn sent said that they tried their version of this in a circular facility, with the telepaths and telekinetics standing in a circle around the person they were trying to heal. Sounds like as good a name as any other."  
Alina shook her head slowly, smiling all the while. It was precisely the name she had intended to use. "It's perfect," she replied. Turning back to the rest of the group, she continued. "The Circle it is. Consider it a code name, if you wish. Once you are all trained, it will be possible to call the Circle together within minutes. Should the call go out, we will assemble here."  
A small blonde woman raised a hand. Alina recognized her as the mother of the little girl she had rescued from a cave-in not a month before. "Yes, Stefanie?"  
"Are we going to be trained as healers?" she asked.  
Alina stepped over toward where Stefanie sat, looking down at her curious turquoise eyes. They were amazingly similar to Kelly's eyes. There was no mistaking that this woman was the little girl's mother. "To a certain extent," she replied. "You will all be trained in specific areas of the body. The telekinetics here will become the healers. It is the telepaths who will have the most difficult part of the Circle, however."  
Standing, she addressed her comments to the assembly. "The telepaths in the room will be dealing primarily with the seriously injured patients, keeping their spirits up and helping alleviate their pain. Stopping pain telekinetically takes far more energy than is practical. This is why you will be working in teams. A telepath to help the patient handle the pain, a telekinetic to heal the injury. The telepaths, however, will also be trained to assist critically injured patients, people on the verge of death."  
A small groan emanated from the back of the group.  
"You're worried about deathbed scans, I understand. Rest assured that only if the full Circle is ever called together will there be any deathbed scans performed. Although, if any of you have experience with them that I am not aware of, it will be beneficial. Ladies and gentlemen, what I am talking about is the people in this room facing a challenge so great that the Psi Corps has never even attempted it. The Minbari, however, have, and they have been kind enough to share the results of that experience with us."  
This brought a murmur of renewed curiosity from her audience.  
"I said that this would be an attempt to cheat death itself. A functioning Circle, able to heal even the most critically injured patient, is the ultimate goal of our project. Any deathbed scan will be done with the rest of the group. No one will bear that burden alone, I promise you. Ideally, your collective abilities will be used to keep the person's consciousness from leaving the body. In some instances, however, we might not be so fortunate, and we may have to try putting it back in."  
A laugh came from the back of the room. "You're talking about putting the ghost back into a dead body?"  
"Yes, Mister Thompson," she flatly replied. "Metaphorically speaking, that's precisely what I'm talking about. I'll be instructing the telepaths individually on this subject as we go along. Keep in mind, _only_ the telepaths will be instructed on this topic. This is the knowledge that must be kept absolutely secret. If you are wondering why, simply imagine what kind of damage Psi Corps could, and no doubt would, do with the knowledge of how to manipulate a human being's life energies."  
A frightened silence filled the room. Alina surveyed her new students, praying to gods both Minbari and human that she had chosen the right people. One minor argument, and the same knowledge they were trying so desperately to protect could turn on them. In an effort to quell the rising anxiety, she opted for giving them a bit of comforting news.  
"In an attempt to minimize the danger, we have made a deal with Edgars-Garibaldi Industries that will keep the telekinetics comfortably away from the fighting. You will be working with Mister Garibaldi on an investigation into some projects that were, shall we say, remnants of the corporation's previous owner. As for the telepaths, you will remain here in the base. Your responsibilities will be primarily defensive. Andrew will be assisting the telepaths in defensive strategy. You will not be involved in the fighting unless it knocks on our front door. I realize that this is quite a bit of information to digest all at once, so does anyone have any questions?"  
There were murmurs of disbelief throughout the room. Alina sensed that they were not quite certain they were worthy of such a project. Yet they still wanted to believe themselves to be the right people, in the right place, at the right time.  
She wanted to believe it just as much.  
When no questions came, she dismissed the meeting, cautioning her small group not to discuss the matter with anyone else. Still, they departed talking amongst themselves.  
"They idolize you and Lyta, you know," Andrew stated.  
With a snort of derision, she replied, "Blind faith. That's a bad thing. Just because we're leading this thing doesn't mean we're completely infallible."  
"Well, Thompson _did_ think you were a little nuts with the ghost idea."  
"_I'm_ beginning to think I'm a little mad with that idea, Andrew. The only saving grace is that Lyta got Mister Garibaldi to go along with it. Do you think the telepaths are strong enough to hold up the bloodhound watch?"  
He nodded. "You forget, I've seen Bester's people at work. They can get so wrapped up in their hunting, they trip up and do things even a low-level teep could work with."  
"More blind faith," she observed. "They think they're above the law, so they won't be punished."  
Andrew nodded as he handed her a stack of files. "That's Bester in a nutshell."  
A thought nagged at the back of her mind as she slowly followed him back into the tunnels. "One of these days you'll have to show me a photograph of him, Andrew. Something seems quite familiar about him."

----------

_April 4, 2264_

Susan surveyed the tunnels that surrounded her, the coppery dust barely disturbed in the three days since she'd last been here. Yes, this was the place. She was certain of it. Even her telepathic sense told her she was far enough away from the main tunnel. When she was certain that she was alone, she flipped the switch on the recorder. Slipping a data crystal into the slot, she lowered her voice to a near-whisper.  
"Major Ryan, it's Captain Ivanova. I'm in the headquarters of the resistance. Sir, I have an idea to bring this thing to a close peacefully, but it's going to take some time. Your help would be beneficial. I know I'm here unofficially, and I told Lyta privately that I've resigned, but I need that to be public record. I can't explain it right now, but it's important to this plan. Please, trust me on this. As soon as I can explain the whole thing, I will. Ivanova out."

[End Part 14]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	15. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 15

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

A note from the author: This story centers around three characters, Susan Ivanova, Alina Minette (yes, she's baaaack) and, to a certain extent, Lyta Alexander. To the I&M'ers out there, stay tuned, my friends. For the spoiler-allergic, provided you haven't read it already, I would recommend waiting to read Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. In an intentional Babylon Squared/WWE homage, the flipside of at least one scene in Brief _will _show up here.

Since I'm not sure of everyone's schedules, I'll include this potential spoiler warning: I'm a continuity junkie, so this includes events through Season 5, as well as things that were revealed in the closing credits of Sleeping in Light. (If you've seen it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, that's okay, it's not quite that obvious.) Background information on the Psi Corps comes from the Keyes novels. Set in the same potential future as Only Those Whose Lives Are Brief. Considering that this covers the time frame of late 2263 - early 2265, I suppose everything is a potential spoiler (though, it would be one INCREDIBLY lucky guess).

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 4, 2264 - 11:43 p.m._

Alone in the darkened conference room, Alina stared at the text on the portable display. A small table lamp teamed with the display's tiny screen to give her what little illumination they could manage.  
It was enough for her needs.  
She turned on the audio recorder as she struggled with the text. A part of her wished Delenn had sent a translation. Reading the intellectual meanderings of a Valerian priestess written 400 years before Alina had even been born was difficult enough. Translating them from the original, centuries-outdated dialect was proving to be a Herculean task in itself. So much was open to interpretation, even to someone who had spent years in a Minbari temple studying ancient religious texts. _At least those texts had been translated since the human race developed space travel,_ she thought, flipping to the next section.  
This stupid file was going to slowly drive her insane.  
"Pon'sha," she mused into the microphone. "Well, it's either death of the soul' or the Minbari equivalent of sexual pleasure."  
She pondered the options.  
" Death of the soul' it is."  
Paragraph after paragraph the translation grew more difficult. The only thing she had to assist her was Delenn's assurance that the text was about the passing of a Minbari soul into the collective.  
It was little help.  
"What are you still doing up?"  
Switching off the recorder, she turned to find Andrew Keene standing in the corridor. From the somewhat rumpled look of him, he was just as tired as she felt. "I could ask you the same question," she replied. With a gesture toward the chair nearest her, she added, "I was just thinking of making some caff. It's instant, but you're welcome to join me."  
With a yawn, he slid into the proffered chair. "Sounds good. I was just working on that idea for the bloodhound watch. You've put together an odd group there, Alina."  
"Blame the Minbari," she replied with a smile. "They're the ones who concocted the details. Every person we saw fits one of the requirements to perfection."  
One hand over hers, he stopped her as she rose to get hot water for the caff. "That's important to you, isn't it?"  
"What is?"  
"Perfection. Everything has to be perfect for you; what you do, who you are."  
Her dark brow furrowed. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"  
"Nothing," he quickly replied. "It's just that there are times when I think you might be . . . a little too perfect, that's all. You said it yourself, the Vorlons couldn't program you. What did they call you? Beauty in the dark'? You were stable, the altered telepaths weren't. Did you ever stop to consider that you might have been the ideal result of their little experiments?"  
Alina's lips opened to protest, but it took time for her to find the words. When she did, they were not the words she had expected.  
"You're right. I suppose I am rather fussy about things being in order."  
"Fussy? You call taking almost two full weeks to go over the files on those few people we ended up with fussy?"  
"I was trained to heal people, Andrew," she stated. "Mistakes are not part of the plan. People die if I make a mistake. And the Vorlons _never_ experimented on me. Don't forget that."  
Pulling her hand from his, she slowly walked over to the small recess in the wall that held the hot water kettle. Ideas were free-flowing through her mind. What _had_ the Vorlons thought of her? She had always deemed her position with them a clean-up crew' post, simply because of the nature of the job. Cleaning up after an ancient race was hardly grounds to be considered perfection.  
And what about her abilities? Just because she had such unusual abilities hardly meant it didn't do her damage to use them. Had the night spent in the Infirmary after saving Kelly's life shown him nothing? She had long since lost count of the number of nights she had spent in hospitals on both Arisia and Minbar.  
"I'm sorry. I know they didn't do anything to you. But Alina, people _are_ going to die if you push yourself too hard on this. You can't be planning these raids and working on the Circle. You're exhausting yourself again. I don't know about you, but I start making mistakes if I get too tired. What if we waited on the Circle until after the fighting is over? Your friend is in cryo. He's got all the time in the world."  
Pouring the water into her mug, she shook her head. "He does, but Susan doesn't. We can't wait. You don't understand, Andrew. It's his life energy that's keeping her alive. Her personality is functional, at least according to Lyta and Mister Garibaldi. But that telepathic signature . . . ."  
"Your friend?"  
"Yes. If we wait too long to separate them, we may not be able to. I saw this before when I was on Minbar. One of the telepaths I knew when I was first brought to Minbar ended up transporting the Vorlon ambassador after their shuttle was damaged in an accident. They were stranded in space for a few days. After their ship was recovered, they were brought into the hospital where I was doing my medical training. He wasn't responding verbally, so I had to make contact with him as I was working, make sure he understood what was happening. What I picked up was more Vorlon than Minbari."  
She could see the light beginning to dawn in his eyes. "They were mixing."  
"Yes."  
"I take it you were able to separate them?"  
The memories of one poor telepath's final days of freedom replayed in her mind; the fear, the chaos, the terror that had all but consumed the small Valerian temple where she had lived. No one would believe that a Minbari could behave in such a manner, let alone that a Minbari could and would kill anyone who crossed his path. The memory of the peaceful creature that the telepath had been before the accident was still fresh in her mind. The idea that a Vorlon could have caused such a change, it was simply unbelievable to the Minbari. To her it had simply been another example of their callousness toward the younger races.  
After a long sip of the caff, she replied, "No. I tried everything I could think of, even if it was just a theory. He was never properly prepared to carry a Vorlon, Andrew. Nothing would help him. The Vorlons wouldn't lift a finger. Surprised me considering how protective they were of their own. The Grey Council ordered him sequestered in the temples. They demanded that he avoid contact with any living being. He couldn't keep his emotions in check. There were bursts of homicidal mania. He very nearly killed three acolytes for simply trying to bring him food. When he spoke, it was nothing anyone could understand. By human standards, he'd gone completely mad."  
Andrew's jaw dropped. "And you're saying if we don't separate Ivanova and your friend the same thing might happen to them?"  
She looked down at the spoon as it swirled in the mug of hot caff. "Speaking as a healer, that's my opinion, yes. Though, considering that it would be two humans, I doubt if Susan would become homicidal. The influence isn't quite so alien."  
"When it rains, it pours."  
"Pardon?" she asked, raising her gaze.  
He quickly shook his head. "Nothing."  
"No," she softly said, sinking back into her chair, "I think I understand. First you find out about Lyta, now this. I'm sorry, Andrew. I-"  
"Wanted everything to turn out differently?" he gently teased. "Why am I not surprised?"  
A blush slowly crept onto her features. "Go to bed. You need sleep, and I need more work on this. Delenn thinks it might be important."  
He watched her for a long moment. "All right," he relented. Leaning across the table, he caught her gaze. "Just promise me one thing?"  
"What?"  
"You won't push yourself too hard. Put Syria Planum first. Right now, that's the most important thing. Surely Ivanova can wait until we get this raid over with. It's only a few weeks."  
She gave him a soft smile. "You're worried I'll make a mistake in planning the raid, aren't you?"  
He slowly nodded. "I can't lie to you. Yes."  
"I know it's no good telling you this, but I'm doing my best on all fronts. Syria Planum will get all of the attention it deserves. I promise you, it will be the best plan I can come up with."  
He slowly rose from the chair. "Will you do me a favor?"  
"Of course."  
"Let us look it over before we decide to go with it. If everyone agrees it's sound, we go?"  
"I was planning on that, anyway."  
With a nod, he turned toward the corridor.  
"Andrew?" she asked, stopping him before he could leave.  
"Yes?"  
"I know you're worried, but you _can_ trust me."  
A slow smile crept onto his features. "Good night, Alina."

[End Part 15]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	16. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 16

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 5, 2264 - 3:30 a.m._

Susan Ivanova paced the corridors of the underground base camp. Save for a few telepaths selected to stand watch, everyone else was comfortably asleep.  
_Everyone except me,_ she thought. _God, Lyta was right about those dreams. What I wouldn't give for a decent night's sleep right now. Why didn't you take that sedative when Carpenter offered it, Ivanova?_  
Of course, the lack of sleep offered her more than enough time to consider this scheme of theirs. Infiltrating a Psi Corps base was hardly high on her things to do before I die' list. The pessimist in her insisted that someone would scan her on sight. Who knew how many people in that base were like Bester? She could hardly fight off one Psi Cop, let alone a group.  
But there were always Alina's blocks.  
_If they work._  
The idea of someone creeping around in her mind was difficult enough, let alone what Alina had planned. Neural blocks were nothing to trifle with, even if the training had come down from the Vorlons. Far too much was at risk to let someone just wander around her every thought. She hadn't felt anyone attempt to scan her yet, but that was little consolation. The idea of Lyta finding out about Marcus just didn't bode well at all, let alone her contact with Major Ryan.  
_Hell, if I were in Lyta's place, I'd kill me just for that._  
There had to be a way to keep Alina from finding out about everything.  
Or, if she did find out, to make certain she kept it from Lyta.  
A part of her wanted to trust the little brunette, however. If she was an old friend of Marcus, then odds were that she could be trusted.  
Above that, she claimed to have been trained by the Vorlons. If the Vorlons really had created telepaths on so many worlds, they had to have some knowledge of the brain and its structure. If they really had taught her about the human brain . . . .  
It just might work.  
But there was still something about the woman that bothered Susan to the core. The diminutive former Ranger was a little too sure of herself for Susan's liking. Was there any way to tell if what Minette was saying was the truth?  
_Yes. I could always get in touch with Delenn. Or maybe John. One of them is bound to have the enlistment roster. I wonder if I could even get them to send me her file. Why didn't I think of this before?_  
She was buried so deeply in her thoughts that she barely noticed the splash of light at the end of the hallway. "Next record, text dated . . . Earth year 1379."  
Alina's voice stopped Susan cold in her tracks. She had stepped too close to the light. The woman was simply too strong to not know she was there.  
"Text appears to be dealing with, yes, it would appear that this work is centered around the joining of the soul to the body."  
_A soul? What the-?_ Susan ducked against the wall, willing herself to be invisible. If Minette hadn't picked her up yet, there was still hope.  
"Yes," Alina continued. "This will be of great assistance. It's all theoretical, of course, but . . . ."  
_Who is she talking to?_  
"Computer, mark this file for further reference. Index it by the defined keywords and give me a relevance count."  
Susan inched closer to the light, curious about what Alina was researching, yet desperate to remain concealed.  
"Indexing complete," a mechanical voice replied. "A total of four hundred fifty-three occurrences of defined keywords. Relevance ninety-five point three two percent using current search parameters."  
"Most interesting," Alina mused. "I'll definitely have to come back to this. Let's go on to the next record."  
The faint sound of liquid pouring into some sort of container reached Susan's ears. Within seconds, the smell of caff filled the halls. _Instant, that smell gives it away. Shame. I could use a cup of real coffee right now._  
"What are you doing up so late, Susan?"  
Cursing herself for allowing her guard to drop, Susan stepped toward the doorway. "Just doing some thinking, Alina. You?"  
The slender brunette turned a weary smile toward her as she walked into the room. "Working, myself. It's amazing how much I can get done at this time of night. Is there anything I can do to quiet your concerns?"  
_More than you could imagine._ Susan quickly tried to shield her surface thoughts as she stepped toward the table. A small portable computer sat open, data crystals and flimsies littering the workspace. The instant she got within a visual range of Alina's work, however, the screen went black and the smaller woman began to gather the paperwork.  
Susan valiantly attempted to cover her curiosity. "Maybe there is. Do you still want me involved in putting together this plan of yours?"  
"Of course," she replied. "The larger our vested interest in this assault is, the stronger its chances of success."  
Placing her palms on the tabletop, Susan leaned forward. "Show me what you've got."  
"Well," Alina began, "the first thing we need to do is get you in there. I think you'll appreciate the certain, well, sadistic charm of Lyta's contribution on this point."  
"Sadistic charm? Lyta?" Susan raised one dark eyebrow. "This I've got to hear."  
"It all goes back to when Mister Garibaldi took over the company. He discovered that William Edgars had a few darker projects, blacker than black' as he likes to refer to them, that involved telepaths. One in particular was a rather nasty virus. It was designed to operate on the gene that controls telepathy, and from what I've seen in the files it was very good at its job. Telepaths died within days, sometimes hours. Mundanes were immune."  
Susan slowly lowered herself into the chair beside Alina. "Damn. Do they still have control of it?"  
"Doubtful, but no one knows for certain."  
"What?"  
Alina pressed a button on the small computer, bringing up a Universe Today article on the death of William Edgars. "According to Mister Garibaldi, there was only one vial of the virus on record. He suspects that the vial fell into the Corps' hands after Edgars' murder. He has no proof, however."  
"Which makes this our cover plan, right?"  
"A cover, but no less valid. We still need to find it. It's a danger to human telepaths everywhere. If the Corps has the vial, it is considered stolen property. There is a bill on the table in the new Mars government to allow corporations to have their own investigators work directly with the Mars authorities in matters of stolen corporate property."  
A slow, sinister smile spread across Susan's features. "And this means that anyone investigating this theft has authority over the Psi Cops?"  
Alina nodded. "It's an interesting new idea, but in this case that's precisely what it means. With Mars being independent of Earth, the Corps is here at the sufferance of the Mars government. They haven't signed a treaty yet allowing them a diplomatic presence, so-"  
"If they screw up, the government can kick them out. I love this. And what does this have to do with me?"  
"This is the best part. Mister Garibaldi has agreed to hire you as the lead investigator."  
Susan fought the urge to laugh. This scenario was simply too good. "We're sure the bill will pass?"  
"The vote is in five days. According to our sources, it will pass without incident. Once it is passed, it is law. Our little endeavor will be the first test of its power."  
"I never thought I'd be thankful Mars hasn't elected a president yet."  
"Yes, the lack of veto power is working in our favor." The display changed to a picture of a sculpted, yet still bland and lifeless, mask as Alina continued. "So, cover story or no, Mister Garibaldi needs this virus located. He places a great deal of faith in your abilities. While you are there, however, we'll need you to smuggle out four of these Grin masks."  
"Grin masks?"  
"I understand that they're worn in the Corps training centers. Andrew is convinced that just the sight of one will scare the wits out of any person we encounter on the way."  
Susan leaned forward. "And how will I keep them from finding out I'm doing this?"  
"The blocks I told you about. I'll teach you how to tuck information behind them. Think of it as similar to moving a file into a protected directory on a computer. You'll be the only one with access until the blocks come down."  
"What kind of backup will I have in there?"  
"Whoever you choose from Mister Garibaldi's staff," Alina replied. "He has compiled a list of personnel who might be qualified to assist you with the investigation, as well as eleven people from our camp."  
_Potential,_ Susan thought. _This plan has potential._  
"Okay, what's your plan to get me out of there when the job's done?"  
Alina triggered another change in the display, this time to a large surface map. "The facility is here," she began, pointing at the screen with one finger. "On the grounds is a Black Omega base. Andrew says that while he was working there it never housed more than six starfuries. Being starfury pilots yourselves, it will be your and Mister Garibaldi's task to disable, preferably permanently, as many of the starfuries as you can before making your escape."  
One dark eyebrow raised in surprise. "Garibaldi's in on the raid?"  
"Yes, and he will be the one to inform you when it will take place. Being the recognized chief executive of Edgars-Garibaldi Industries, he has every right to make an inspection of your investigation at any point he wishes." Yawning fiercely, Alina pulled herself out of the chair. She grabbed the flimsies and data crystals as she turned toward the door. "Here, feel free to look over the particulars. I simply cannot hold my eyes open any longer."  
Fighting to control her surface thoughts, Susan managed to keep her cheering silent. "Gladly. I'll let you know if I find anything."  
When she felt the coast was clear, Susan leaned over the computer and allowed her instincts to lead her into the more secure files. Hacking into computer systems had always been an interesting challenge, and this was no exception. She bypassed the attack plan in favor of the files that Alina had been hiding, cursing the fact that she was without her usual tools.  
_The Syria Planum plan has almost no security on it, but she's got more locks on these files than we ever used on Babylon Five. What's so important about these particular files?_  
Without her password generator, Susan opted instead for the system's back route. The operating systems on the smaller computers were difficult to crack into, but hardly impossible to an experienced hand. This system held a few minor modifications, one of which seemed to be a disconcerting ability to display text using a Minbari character set. Within minutes, she was at what she surmised was the prompt that she needed. A dark smile slowly spread across her lips.  
_Now, it's just a simple case of translation._  
The first file she could locate held the rather enigmatic name of Galahad'. The reference alone was intriguing. It hardly surprised her that Alina would use names from the legends of King Arthur. After all, Marcus had said that her ancestry fascinated her.  
_Galahad. Wasn't he supposed to be the pure and chaste one? Wait a minute._  
The words pure and chaste' brought only one thing to Susan's mind.  
One person.  
Marcus.  
Alina and Marcus had been old friends.  
Galahad' rapidly became a file that Susan wanted to crack.  
After so many years of bypassing computer security, Susan was accustomed to reading the tangled mess of text and symbols to extract the information. What appeared on the small screen, however, threw her a curve.  
The sloping curves and gentle angles of the characters had led her to believe it was Minbari script, but a few of the symbols were unlike any Minbari text that she had ever seen. An interest in the culture was growing on Earth, but it was hardly prevalent to this level. To her knowledge, Minbari and human computers simply were not technologically compatible to such an extent.  
_I wonder. Alina dated one of those files she was reading as Earth year 1379. That must have been where the files came from. This computer must have been modified on Minbar. _  
After concluding that she seriously needed to brush up on her ancient Minbari dialects, Susan stared at the characters on the display, searching for anything that looked even vaguely familiar.  
_There. I think that one is soul'. That one looks like death'. What about that one? Is that connection'? What does this have to do with Marcus? What is she doing?_  
When she was unable to recognize any more of the characters, Susan closed the file. She accessed two more files, with the same results. It all appeared in the same variation of Minbari text, the same one she was hardly capable of translating.  
Susan attempted to adjust the system log and reboot the computer, bringing it back to the Syria Planum attack plan. While the back of her mind worked on translating the odd Minbari dialect, she stared at the assault pattern that Alina had planned. It was getting late. If she didn't at least look over the plan once before going to bed, suspicion would be raised. Alina might discover that the system log had been tampered with, and realize that she had accessed the files.  
For all of the good accessing that data had done.  
_Damn, what I wouldn't give for my old translation programs right now. Oh, well, might as well get this over with._  
Pouring herself a mug of instant caff, Susan leaned closer to the display and commenced her study of the Syria Planum facility.

----------

_April 7, 2264_

Lyta stared at the display, a broad smile on her fair features. "This looks very good. I think it has a good chance of working."  
She raised her eyes to find Michael Garibaldi staring at her with his usual skeptical look. She hardly had to look at his surface thoughts to know he'd found a problem in the attack plan. "What is it, Michael? What are you seeing?"  
"I don't know, Lyta," he said, running a hand over hair that hadn't been present for three years. "Something about this whole thing just bothers me."  
"Usually for good reason, Michael. What do you think they missed?"  
He shook his head. "If it were just Minette working on this, I could give you a list, but Ivanova looked at it, too. She's just too damned thorough."  
Unable to argue with that, Lyta nodded. "And the problem you found is?"  
He gestured toward the display, pointing directly at the schematic of the starfury hangar. "Two people to take out six starfuries? Permanently? Ivanova knows damned good and well that we'd have to blow the hangar to do that. There's no way to do that without killing people."  
"Then we blow it," she coldly replied. "Whatever it takes. I want those starfuries out of commission. Maybe Susan can find a way to get the innocents out of the way before you go in."  
"Lyta," Andrew interjected, "those walls are heavily fortified. They're designed to withstand a starfury crash-landing. A small fusion reactor could detonate in there and they would just shrug it off. There's no way to blow that hangar short of using military nukes, and where are we supposed to get those?"  
A satanic smile spread across Garibaldi's lips. "If it takes out Bester, I'll be more than willing to bring the nukes up to his front door. But my ass is not going to be there when they go off. I fully intend to outlive that little monster."  
Lyta stared long at Garibaldi, one red eyebrow raised. "Where did you get nukes?"  
"Trade secret."  
_Why am I not surprised?_ she thought. _He could tell me an entire squadron was at his disposal, and it just wouldn't surprise me._  
"Are they portable nukes, or are we talking military-issue?" Andrew asked.  
Garibaldi's smile spread even further. "Which would you prefer?"  
Andrew's eyes widened. "Interesting. That might come in handy when we get closer to the final push."  
Lyta turned a harsh glare on the blond. "Syria Planum is too close to the Main Dome, Andrew. I don't care how much they've reinforced the hangar, they can't block out the radiation. I can't condone using the nukes, it would kill too many innocents. That is not the way we operate."  
"It may have to be, Lyta," he replied. "You know they're not going to pull any punches."  
"And neither will we," she curtly replied. "We just make sure that our punches are a little more subtle than a nuclear explosion."  
"Which leaves our options wide open," Garibaldi stated. "The nukes will be there if and when we need them. Don't worry about that."  
Returning her eyes to the display, Lyta stared intently at the schematic of the hangar. "We need another option, Michael. No nukes. Something confined. Can I trust you to figure that part out?"  
Garibaldi's urge to destroy the facility hit her like a wave.  
_Damn it, Michael._  
"Michael?" she prompted.  
"I'll think of something."

[End Part 16]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	17. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 17

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 9, 2264_

For the first time in years, Susan Ivanova was terrified.  
Doubts flew through her mind as she stepped over the threshold into the small room that Garibaldi had set aside. Once a private medical testing facility, Susan wondered briefly if the mysterious telepath-hating virus had been engineered here. If so, were any of the bugs remaining? Would they find her?  
After Vorlons, Shadows and an all-out civil war, would a microscopic, otherwise insignificant little creature be her final destruction?  
_Why not? Couldn't think of a more Russian ending._  
The solid black of the walls did nothing to soothe her anxiety, nor did the bed that sat in the center of the room. The head of the bed was tilted at an angle to the floor, with electrodes of more sizes, shapes and colors than Susan could ever recall seeing in her life dangling all around. Sensors, scanners, equipment she didn't even know names for rested in various areas of the small room.  
A shiver ran down her spine at the memories the sight evoked. The last time she had seen so much medical equipment had been on a Minbari cruiser, so close to death that she could taste it, and the sole intent of the equipment to make her final hours comfortable.  
Now, however, death was not following her through the door.  
No.  
Death was something she could handle.  
For Susan, doubt was far more powerful a force.  
_Buck up, Ivanova. Marcus said she was trustworthy. And from what I've read that virus would have killed me by now. As long as Lyta's not around-_  
"Contact me when you're finished."  
Susan's heart leapt into her throat at the commanding sound of Lyta Alexander's voice. The redhead stepped around a large bank of equipment, a smile on her attractive features.  
"Susan, right on schedule," the telepath said, her hazel eyes bright. With a gesture toward another large rack, one that looked as if it contained medical scanners, she added, "Alina and Andrew are right back there. If you need me, I'll be back at the camp."  
"You're not-?"  
Lyta quickly shook her head. "Alina insisted that only the necessary people be around. It'll just be you, Alina and Andrew. I'll check in on you when you get back, if that's all right?"  
"Yes," Susan replied around the fear in her throat.  
"Good." A smile on her lips, Lyta walked out into the hall.  
Susan could feel her presence recede, but once the door closed it was gone.  
_This room is shielded somehow. I didn't even know that was possible. Wonder if Garibaldi knows about this?_  
"Hello, Susan."  
Alina stepped around the largest bank of equipment, shrugging a white medical coat over her usual clothing. How the thing fit over the woman's seemingly ever-present black vest without looking like a hand-me-down was astonishing. The bulges that riddled the vest were barely noticeable under the white cloth. "If you're ready to begin, please lay on the bed and relax."  
"What about-?"  
"Andrew? He will remain in the other room until we finish."  
Susan stepped toward the inclined surface of the bed. "Does he know about this room?"  
"That it's shielded? Yes. Says he discovered that while working on something for Mister Garibaldi a few months ago. We suspect that this is where Edgars did his experiments."  
"How did they shield it?"  
Alina looked at the dark walls that surrounded them. "No idea. I wasn't even aware that telepathic shielding was possible. All I know is that when the doors are closed I can't send to anyone outside of this room."  
Susan's brain stumbled at that point. If Alina couldn't send through these walls, the odds were good that nobody else could, probably not even Lyta.  
_Hell, odds are good enough I'd stake a month's pay at New Vegas._  
Stepping toward the nightmarish contraption that Alina referred to as a bed, Susan forced herself into a sense of calm. What did she have to lose? Minette knew about Marcus. So long as she kept certain thoughts in the background, buried them as deeply as possible, everything would be okay.  
_I hope._  
Leaning back against a surprisingly soft surface, Susan was unable to resist the urge to close her eyes. A quick mental exercise threw thoughts of Marcus, the Valkyrie and Major Ryan into the deepest, most protected area of her mind.  
"Susan, are you certain you're ready?"  
Moistening her lips, Susan managed to unclench the fist that rested against her leg. "Yes. Just do it."  
Sensing movement, she opened her eyes to find Alina standing beside the bed. One look into the telepath's concerned green eyes and all of her worry began to drain away. "Stop that."  
"Stop what?" was the innocent reply.  
"Whatever you're doing."  
Alina's dark brow furrowed. "I'm doing nothing, Susan. I simply asked if you were ready for me to begin."  
With a quick nod, Susan forced her eyes to close once again. "Just do it and get it over with."  
A hand touched hers, a familiarity in the grasp that she could not quite place.  
"Susan," Alina whispered, "you have no reason to be so concerned. I know this isn't something you're looking forward to. You should not feel anything. I promise you that I will be as brief as possible. If you want me to stop, tell me."  
_If I want you to stop, Minette-_  
"And nothing I do will harm Marcus. That you can trust."  
With a long sigh, Susan asked, "You're sure?"  
"Positive."  
"What about-?"  
"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Alina whispered. "I won't scan you at all. If I do see anything, it goes no further than my own mind, Susan. Not even Lyta is strong enough to scan me."  
Susan stared directly into Alina's eyes. "How can you be sure she can't scan you?"  
"She tried once, and failed."  
The confidence in Minette's voice bolstered Susan's own faith somewhat. "If anything goes past you, so help me-"  
"On my honor as a Ranger."  
Susan raised one eyebrow. "I thought-"  
"Delenn never truly allows anyone to leave, does she? Leave of absence. Technically, I'm still one of them, but _only_ technically. Besides," Alina added, smiling, "that just proves that we all have our secrets. You and Andrew are the only ones who know mine."  
_But you're not quite the enemy,_ Susan thought, immediately chastising herself. _Wait a minute, if she's trading secrets that Lyta doesn't even know._  
Taking a deep breath, Susan leaned back against the inclined bed. "All right."  
"Good," Alina replied, reaching toward something behind Susan's head. "Now, let's get to work. I'm going to put these monitors on you. It's nothing to worry about, trust me."  
_Why? Why do I let myself go along with these things?_ Susan thought as sensors were pressed onto her forehead.  
Alina stepped away for a few seconds, returning with an oddly-shaped crystal. "Hold this."  
"What?"  
"Hold this crystal. I want you to focus all of your thoughts onto it. Study the shapes, colors, texture, every aspect of its essence."  
Not quite certain that she understood the purpose of the exercise, Susan relegated herself to doing as she had been instructed. It was a crystal unlike any she had ever seen before, oblong in shape and large enough to sit comfortably in her cupped hands. Its surface was smooth, with ridges and valleys that gave it a sculpted feeling. The swirls of lavender and pale blue in its depths begged her attention until slowly the world around her narrowed. The remainder of her universe was blackness, her vision and concentration focused solely on the crystal in her hand, the cool stone having surprisingly little weight as she rolled it in her palms.  
Marcus probably would have found the exercise more intriguing. He always did seem to enjoy the meditation and intellectual games more than she ever would.  
_Where did **that** come from?_  
Her dreams began to come back to her, walking in the green grasses of Kazan Cathedral, the peaceful tranquility of Menshikov Palace.  
The pictures floating through her mind meshed, swirling and resolving into more images than she could count; visiting her brother before he departed on the _Lexington_ during the Earth-Minbari War, talking to her father for the last time, trying desperately to control an Advisory Council meeting. Memory upon disconnected memory drifted to the surface, only to merge with another and fade away.  
She was slowly swept away by the images, until they began dissolving into pure colors. Vibrant reds coalesced into incredible violets, blues, greens and oranges. She could recall nebulas that were less spectacular to watch.  
Finally, when she thought her stomach couldn't handle any more of the visual assault, it simply stopped. Everything around her was darkness. She could no longer feel the cool crystal that had rested in her hands, nor the soft surface of the bed that had supported her weight.  
"Susan?"  
She searched the murkiness that surrounded her for the source of the voice, but came up empty.  
"Susan Ivanova, can you hear me?"  
She attempted to nod, but couldn't feel her head move. "Yes," she whispered.  
The darkness began to boil away, until she was back in the reality she remembered. The crystal was still, somehow, in her grasp. "How?"  
"Sometimes the senses are affected by that procedure."  
Susan turned her head slightly to the left, just in time to watch Alina duck briefly behind a rack of medical equipment. "The crystal."  
"Yes, it's a meditation crystal," Alina replied. "It helps the mind focus on one thing, freeing the rest for work that needs to be done."  
"No, I -" Susan fumbled to retain her hold on the crystal. She was about to lose it when Alina took it from her hands.  
"I see," the telepath said. "You need rest. If you'd like, I can have Andrew check the blocks later."  
Susan feebly shook her head. "No, now."  
Alina glanced off toward a monitor and gave a quick nod. "Aside from exhausted, how do you feel?"  
"Okay, I think," Susan replied, taking a quick mental inventory. "What was all of that?"  
The sound of a door closing cut off any reply Alina may have had. "You're ready?" Andrew asked as he stepped into Susan's range of vision.  
"Yes," Alina replied, raising one dark eyebrow. "I think our dear Susan believes that if the blocks will hold now, when she can barely defend them, they'll hold when she's fully rested. Correct?"  
Susan nodded.  
"All right, then," Andrew stated. He stepped up to the side of the bed, and Susan couldn't help but be reminded that he wasn't that much taller than Alina. She could sense the concern in him as he looked down on her and grasped her hand. "If you're sure you're ready, I'll try it."  
"Do it," Susan instructed.  
She stared into his soft blue eyes for what felt like an eternity, preparing herself for the mental walls that she had worked so hard and for so long to fortify to come crumbling down.  
The first tentative probe at her defenses came, but it did not break through.  
"Harder," she whispered.  
Another probe, this time stronger, failed to breach the walls.  
"They won't pull punches, Andrew. You know Bester."  
Andrew licked his lips nervously. "A cold, full-blast attempt could kill you."  
"Would he care?" Susan asked, one dark eyebrow arching.  
"Okay," Andrew replied, leaning hard against the bed. "Here goes."  
He stared intently into her eyes, and she could feel the telepathic equivalent of a battering ram begin to attack her defenses. When it was clear that the hard-and-fast technique wasn't going to work, he attempted something more insidious.  
She felt a thin, almost serpentine probe begin its work. It caressed the perimeter of her mind, softly searching her defenses for any hole that it could use to break through. Exhausted, she chose not to fight the probe. If Andrew could get through on his own, with no defense from her, the blocks weren't going to hold.  
A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of Andrew's nose.  
Still, the blocks held.  
She looked into his eyes, watching them fill with disbelief. She sensed that he was trying every trick he knew of to get through, could feel the probe changing with every new tactic, still he was getting nowhere.  
The blocks were going to hold.  
"Enough," Alina finally stated, pulling Andrew away from the bed. "Andrew, did you get anywhere?"  
He simply shook his head.  
Alina turned toward the bed. "Susan?"  
"I wasn't even defending," she replied.  
"They're iron-clad," Andrew declared. "If she's not defending at all, those blocks will hold off pretty much everybody."  
"I think so," Susan added. "I could feel you trying to get through."  
Alina rubbed a hand over Andrew's shoulder. "You go rest." Turning to Susan, she added with a smile, "Now, it's time to teach you how to use these things."

[End Part 17]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	18. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 18

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 10, 2264_

Alina awoke, or at least thought she awoke, in the middle of painfully familiar territory. The empty corridors that surrounded her were so real, so like those she remembered, that she was forced to remind herself they no longer existed. Even the windows held the appropriate view of the forbidding surface of Arisia Three.  
It was a surface that she knew had been destroyed along with the only place that she had ever called home.  
"It still exists in our memories, Lee."  
Alina swallowed hard, fighting the pain that voice evoked. Too many years had passed since the last time she had heard it. Years of searching. Years of being just a bit too late. She shook her head slowly, convinced that her mind was playing tricks again. Lyta had warned her about the dreams she might have. Maybe it was the proximity of the other telepaths.  
Maybe it was just her imagination.  
Maybe.  
A tall figure stepped between her and the window. The vision was blurry at first, but it slowly resolved into something . . . someone that she had never honestly believed she would see again. Granted, he looked much older than she remembered, and she was not quite certain what it was that had possessed him to grow the beard, but the Marcus Cole that she had known still rested in the vision that stood before her.  
"Am I dreaming?" she asked. "Is that really you?"  
His lips twisted wryly. "You sound just like Susan."  
"Where are you?"  
"I'm not completely sure," he shrugged. "I think-"  
"You're in Susan's mind," she finished, rigidly keeping her emotions in check. "I thought she was carrying you, but I wasn't sure how."  
He shook his head slowly, the dark locks falling against his face. "Must have been that damned machine," he whispered.  
"What machine?"  
"It's a long story."  
She felt the pain coming from him; pain, sadness and longing. Garibaldi had been right all along. "No action taken out of love is ever wrong, Marcus."  
A flash of humor crossed his face. "I had almost forgotten how utterly annoying that was."  
"What, the fact that I always knew what you were thinking? I'm a telepath, Marcus. Considering your girlfriend's one, too, I would expect you'd be used to it by now."  
The corner of his mouth twisted with exasperation. "Don't tell me she told _you_, too."  
Alina shook her head. "No, Lyta did."  
"Lyta knew!"  
"Yes," she patiently replied. "She found out when she had to send some password telepathically. And would you like to tell me why this is driving you batty, or should I just scan you and get it over with? Of course, provided that's even possible here, wherever the devil we are."  
He watched her with a wide smile, the irritation that she sensed not quite making it into his gaze. "It's nothing. I'm just letting something get to me that I shouldn't, I suppose."  
For a long moment, she looked up at him, trying to decide whether to pursue the topic. Unable to suppress her emotions any longer, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace, burying her face against his shoulder.  
He brushed a hand against the back of her head, smoothing her dark hair. "Lee?" he murmured. "What's wrong?"  
Gathering what little of her composure remained, she lifted her head from his shoulder. "I've never been happier to see someone, Marcus. You have no idea how long I've been looking for you."  
He curled a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. "Fifteen years?" he asked, smiling.  
She nodded. "I always kept missing you-"  
"-by that much?"  
It was old, utterly awful joke. Still, it lifted her spirits. "Yes. I was in Tuzanor when Will came, but our paths never crossed. When the news came in that he'd died, I was already working on a ship off-planet. I-"  
"You joined the Rangers?"  
She nodded. "It's a long story, but yes. Sinclair needed me there."  
His smile stilled. "Why am I not surprised that you knew Sinclair. Did they tell you how Will died?"  
"Yes," she replied. "It was not your fault, Marcus. Don't blame yourself for what the Shadows did."  
"Too late."  
She cupped a hand against his jaw, the scruff of the beard itching her palm. A storm of emotion clouded his normally brilliant green eyes. Everything she had ever known about him told her something was wrong, and that something had to do with Susan Ivanova. "You really do love her, don't you?"  
He very slowly nodded.  
The longing she felt from him grew more intense.  
"What is it, Marcus? What happened?"  
His eyes lowered to the floor. "I was an idiot, that's what."  
She gave a soft laugh, slowly shaking her head. "You wouldn't be the first person, Galahad."  
A slow groan rose from the space between them.  
"What's the matter?"  
With a shake of his head, he answered, "Nothing. Look, Lee, I need your help."  
Her heart leapt into her throat at hearing his words. The Marcus she had known only asked for help on the big things, things he could not handle alone. It had happened so rarely in their youth, Alina had to struggle to remember any instance.  
At that moment, not a single one came to mind.  
Swallowing hard, she nodded. "What is it?"  
His eyes raised to hers once again, and she could see the trouble clouding their depths. "It's Susan. Is she with you and Lyta?"  
"Yes."  
Marcus sighed. "Then she _is_ putting up a general block."  
Her jaw dropped. "A general block strong enough to keep you out? How is that possible?"  
"That was my next question."  
Needing to think, Alina turned toward the window. She stared at the roiling surface of Arisia Three and considered the question. If Susan really was as terrified of a scan as Lyta had suggested, the blocks made sense. Throw up everything you have and pray to God that it holds. However, Susan had only been able to block a P5 naturally before. Blocking an external influence was one thing, but how could she block out Marcus?  
_The neural blocks_, she thought, _but I didn't find Marcus when I was working. Kalenn always said that if you can't find it, you can't block it off. So, if I didn't do it, how? In Valen's name, Susan, did you do this yourself?_   
"Wait a minute," she said, turning back toward him. "How did you find me, Marcus?"  
He shrugged. "I'm not sure, exactly. I knew I couldn't get through to Susan anymore and I could feel all of these presences that hadn't been there before. Something told me that Lyta wouldn't believe me, she think I was a figment of her imagination. Then I found you."  
She smiled. "I'm going to be honest with you, I think you're tied into Susan's telepathy. I'm not certain precisely _how_ you did it, but you obviously did. I put neural blocks into her mind, but I didn't find you while I was putting them in. I don't believe they're responsible for this. Whatever is blocking you out, I have a feeling Susan's put that up by herself. If she did, you'll be the only way that it can come down."  
A glimmer of hope surfaced on his features. "Really? How?"  
Wrapping an arm around his waist, she led him down the corridor. "Come on. Let's talk."

[End Part 18]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	19. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 19

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 18, 2264_

_Not again,_ Susan thought as she slowly regained consciousness. _If I wake up with this headache one more day . . . ._  
She stared at the dimly lit ceiling of the small bedroom Michael Garibaldi had given her three days before. _I swear to God, I'm going to kill Minette for this._  
Susan had come to the Garibaldi residence partially to set up her cover story of working for Edgars-Garibaldi Industries. She had also hoped to rid herself of the godforsaken pounding that had been greeting her for the past seven mornings.  
She'd at least been able to put up the guise of accomplishing her primary objective.  
Her hand went to the nightstand, finding the bottle of aspirin and small cup of water. Without even turning, she popped the lid from the bottle and extracted the last three pills. Realizing that taking the pills would be almost impossible to do laying down, she forced herself to sit.   
_Hit it fast and hard,_ she thought as she swallowed the aspirin and tucked herself back under the covers. _Then maybe I'll at least be able to function today._  
She was teetering on the verge of falling back to sleep when a soft knock came at the door.  
"What?"  
A thin beam of light fell into the room as the door slowly opened. If the softness of the knock hadn't given her away, the sound of Lise Edgars Garibaldi's voice certainly would have. "Susan? You up? Breakfast is ready."  
Susan groaned. Why, in the name of all that was holy, had Michael Alfredo Garibaldi married a morning person? Sure, Lise was pretty, she'd grant him that, but looks hardly made up for such abysmal behavior. "I'll rise, but I refuse to shine."  
Her stomach chose that moment to voice its lack of substantial content.  
Lise chuckled. "Well, it's not the kind of breakfast you'd get on Earth, but we do have fresh orange juice. And Michael wanted you to know that you have a visitor."  
That got Susan's attention almost as quickly as the mention of food. "I have a visitor?"  
"Yes," Lise stated. "Lyta's in the living room."  
_Lyta. I wonder-_  
"Lise?" Susan quickly asked as the door began to close.  
"Yes?"  
She stared at the brunette for a long moment before replying, "As soon as this-"  
"-headache goes away? I'll tell her."  
The door whispered to a close, leaving Susan in peace once more. Only, it wasn't quite as peaceful; her aching mind was tending to that.  
_What is she doing here?_ she thought. _I'm not going in for another three days. The staff is just about ready to work in there. Garibaldi didn't say he was calling her, but that doesn't mean a damned thing. I've already tried everything Minette said to lose this headache. What's going on?_  
Pulling the blanket to her chin, she stared into the near-darkness. _Marcus, where the hell are you when I need you?_  
A more solid knock came at her door.  
After days of working around so many telepaths of varying strengths, Susan had begun learning to 'read' her surroundings. It had nagged her at first, the thought of using abilities that she had fought for so long to keep a secret, but she had quickly realized that there wasn't much of a choice.  
If she didn't use them, there was the distinct possibility that her abilities would use her, giving her away to the Corps at the worst possible moment.  
The memory of Jason Ironheart's abilities leaking throughout the station returned to her with blinding clarity.  
Susan was hardly that strong, but the risk of her abilities leaking through her guard had simply been too great. She had subtly persuaded Alina to teach her more defensive tactics over their days of training. Alina had also taught her an old theory on telepathy, she hadn't been quite certain of the source, that treated telepathy as an atmosphere, and telepaths as the winds. Stronger telepaths were bigger gusts, normals were barely a breeze.  
What stood outside Susan's door at that moment felt like a hurricane.  
The ache in her skull finally began to fade.  
"Yes?" she called.  
The door cracked open once more, and her suspicion proved correct. The sharp contrast of the brightly lit hallway gave Lyta's hair a fiery aura. "Susan?"  
She attempted a smile, but it hardly felt genuine. "Hi, Lyta."  
The redhead slipped into the room, closing the door before settling onto the foot of the bed. "Are you all right? Lise said you still have the headache."  
Susan nodded, the throbbing subsiding even further. "Aspirin's the only thing that's actually helping."  
Lyta's hazel eyes seemed to look through her, but Susan felt no scan. "How are the dreams?"  
Susan's heart leapt into her throat. "The dreams?"  
"Marcus," the redhead whispered. "You asked me about them, remember? Kosh used to speak to me in my dreams. If what you have is anything like that . . . ."  
Historically speaking, Lyta Alexander and Susan Ivanova had never been what anyone would have called 'best friends'. Susan had simply been burned one too many times to trust a telepath _that_ much.  
Still, she had trusted Lyta with her life on more than one occasion, which for a telepath was far more than even Susan would have thought possible. Most people were terrified of Lyta Alexander and everything their imaginations thought her capable. There were times when that list even included Susan Ivanova.  
Somehow, though, she trusted Lyta. That trust had eventually brought with it camaraderie, a sort of friendship, and enough of an understanding of the woman beneath the Vorlon weapon to know that tone of voice. Lyta Alexander had been as much in love with Kosh as had been humanly possible.  
"Lyta, I-"  
"Don't be sorry," she replied, holding up a hand. "You didn't kill him. I just - I just want you to know that I understand."  
Susan took a deep, frustrated breath, before stating, "They're gone, Lyta. I haven't had a single dream of any sort since Minette put these things in my head. I can't reach him anymore. Besides that, I keep waking up with this damned headache. She says she didn't do anything, but-"  
"You don't believe her," Lyta matter-of-factly finished. "This isn't a surprise, Susan. You said the aspirins were helping?"  
She nodded. "Nothing else works. I can't make any sense out of it. I'm half tempted to contact Stephen, see if he can think of something."  
"No. If the aspirin is working, then you should stick with it. The last thing we need right now is another person involved in this. I hate to see you going into Syria Planum with a handicap, though."  
"So do I," Susan replied, rubbing her temples. "Can you have Andrew come and test the blocks again? I want to make sure this isn't affecting them."  
Lyta nodded. "I'll have him come over tomorrow." Rising slowly from the bed, she smiled. "Seems like you're feeling better. I'll let you get dressed. We'll talk more over breakfast."  
As the door closed behind the redhead, Susan stared once again at the ceiling.  
_God, I hope the aspirin isn't killing the blocks. I don't think I could handle that procedure again. Marcus, where the hell are you?_

----------

_April 21, 2264_

The building that greeted her as the transport tube approached had to be the single most intimidating building that Susan Ivanova had ever seen. It was tall, almost grotesquely tall compared to the other buildings in Marsdome. Beige walls stretched upward, almost reaching the glass of the dome. A wall of windows was set into the building's façade. At the top, where everything tapered to an enormous wedge, was a gigantic Psi Corps logo. She stared at the out-of-place greenery that surrounded the oddly-shaped building, wondering if it had been put there just to humanize the structure.  
_It looks almost like an old-fashioned rocket with those fins at the bottom,_ she thought, wondering precisely what demented personality had been the architect.  
"Man, looks just like the one in Geneva," Garibaldi mused from the seat beside her. "Originality is obviously not a must."  
As the transport pulled into the station, Susan fought to control the butterflies in her stomach. She attempted to convince herself that it was nothing more than an easy in-and-out; just go in, meet the people on high, invoke the just-passed bill, and head off for Syria Planum. She had accomplished far more difficult tasks during the Shadow War.  
_Of course, then you had help, Ivanova._  
As she stepped through three separate banks of security scanners and into the building, the first thing that hit her mind was the sheer lack of telepathic noise. Even in the camp, the telepaths gave off a tremendous amount of psionic background noise. Here, however, that wasn't the case. She sensed order, discipline coming from the minds of those around her.   
_Curious._  
She followed Garibaldi down a corridor that was nothing but shades of beige. The paint on the walls matched the outside of the building, while the carpet was a darker tone. White sconces lit the hallways, making the setting all the more neutral. The only items breaking the monochromatic décor were the framed posters that adorned the walls. White text on black, the first poster to greet her eyes held the Psi Corps mantra. **The Corps is Mother. The Corps is Father.**  
Then another. **Obey.**  
_Gives a whole new meaning to the Fifth Commandment._  
A bone-deep throbbing slowly began to develop behind her left eye. _Of all the times to not have any aspirin._  
"Hello, Mister Garibaldi."  
Susan's heart stopped for the briefest of moments at recognizing Alfred Bester's voice. Her first thought, as it always was with the little weasel, was hatred; hatred for the man that was a living embodiment of every reason that Psi Corps deserved to crumble.  
_Get it under control, Ivanova. Strong emotions may still let him in._  
In the corner of her eye, she noticed Garibaldi's jaw tighten. His eyes fixed on Bester, and the hatred she felt in herself was multiplied tenfold in that gaze.  
The display, however, left the Psi Cop completely unfazed. "And Captain Ivanova. But, then, I suppose I can't call you captain' any longer, can I? Shame you resigned after finally getting that promotion."  
Ignoring the rapidly developing headache as best she could, she glared icily at the much shorter man and his outstretched, black-gloved hand. Did he actually want to shake hands? Arms folded at the small of her back, she gave him the briefest of nods. "'Captain' will do."  
"Ah, yes. The usual Ivanova charm," Bester said with an obviously forced smile. Turning his attentions back toward Garibaldi, he continued. "I understand that you have some urgent information?"  
"Yes," Michael replied in a tight voice. "This is probably a stupid question, but is there someplace secure where we can talk? I don't think you want this getting around."  
"Of course." One gloved hand gestured down a side corridor. Susan noted that it, too, was the same conglomeration of beige hues. Boring. The headquarters of Psi Corps on Mars, and it looked no different from what she would have expected of any office building on Earth; the same drab colors, the same monotonous sounds. How had Andrew tolerated working in such an environment?  
_Ivanova, what is wrong with you? He worked in Syria Planum, not here. Get it together. Think straight for crying out loud._  
"Right this way."  
Garibaldi took up step behind Bester, with Susan pulling up the rear as they wandered off. She recalled turning at least five times but, even with her memory, she couldn't have verified that on sight.  
As they walked, Bester nodded to one of the younger Psi Cops, a woman dressed head to foot in the requisite black suit, with the copper Psi Corps shield on her left lapel. Dark glasses covered her eyes, and her close-cropped blonde hair did little to frame what were otherwise attractive features. Turning an eye to Garibaldi, Susan discovered him with a look of concern on his face.  
Catching his eye, she raised an eyebrow quizzically.  
Shaking his head, Garibaldi's footsteps grew faster.  
Susan got the distinct impression that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He barely had control over his anger.  
The blonde took up step behind them, close enough for Susan to sense her presence; sense it, and recognize it. Swallowing hard, she buried the realization behind the blocks and fought to keep it from her expression. The headache made it difficult, but not impossible.  
Bester opened what appeared to be a solid, wooden door, revealing a small office. He gestured toward a light brown sofa as he entered the room. "Have a seat."  
Susan followed Michael to the sofa, sinking into its cushions. It felt suspiciously like the sofa that had been in the captain's office on Babylon 5. Comfortable, but not overly so.  
"I said someplace secure, Bester," Garibaldi warned.  
Bester smiled at the blonde, who had taken up a stance behind the large wooden desk. It was a paternal smile, warm, caring - and completely unnerving to anyone who had knowledge of the man. "You'll forgive my assistant's presence, Mister Garibaldi. Call it a little healthy paranoia, but not even Psi Cops travel alone these days. Even within our own walls we are in danger from Miss Alexander's people."  
"Didn't think they were hers anymore," Susan stated.  
"You, of all people, should know better than to believe the popular media, Captain. Whoever this Minette woman is, you can be certain that she is simply a figurehead. Lyta Alexander is still the real power to be dealt with."  
Susan and Michael exchanged looks. With a 'whatever you say' shrug, Garibaldi set the plan in motion.  
"You remember William Edgars' death a couple of years ago?"  
Bester nodded.  
"Well, since I took over I found out a few things. There were a few projects - personal projects - he was working on."  
"And those projects would interest me how?"  
Garibaldi took a deep breath and said, "A virus. It attacks the telepathic gene. There was only one vial of the bug in existence, and it disappeared when they ransacked the house. I've been hunting for it for months."  
A smug grin spread across Bester's features. "And you require the Corps' assistance."  
"Hardly," Garibaldi said with a snort of derision. "The only help I need from Psi Corps is compliance with the Trainor Bill."  
Bester glanced back at the blonde. When she gave a brief nod, he raised an eyebrow. "You wish to investigate the Corps itself?"  
Michael Garibaldi smiled viciously. "Damn right I do."  
"And what would you have to do with this investigation, Captain?"  
Susan pulled herself out of the sofa, stepping toward Bester. She stopped just close enough to properly look down upon him. "I'm leading it."  
Bester at least had the decency to look surprised. "You, Captain?"  
"Yes," Susan stated. "Me. My investigators will join us once I get settled in at the Syria Planum facility."  
_That_ was when she felt the scan.  
She managed to curb her instinctive reaction to kill whoever was doing it, but it was a far from easy task. Instead, she continued to glare down at Bester, daring the little weasel to push further.  
One dark eyebrow raised at the realization that it wasn't Bester doing the scan.  
Crossing her arms over her chest, Susan strode over to the blonde. Staring into those dark glasses, she put every ounce of command into her voice. "Next time, Bester, if you want to bring one of your little lap bitches, make sure she knows how to behave."  
Indignance hit her from the woman.  
Genuine surprise hit her from Bester. "Why, Captain, we don't need-"  
Susan whirled on the man. "What we _don't_ need, Mister Bester, are any more of your games. If you thought I wouldn't recognize Miss Winters, you were wrong. I'm warning you right now, if she, or anyone else for that matter, ever tries to scan me again, I will personally rip out their heart and force feed it down your throat. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"  
Bester's gaze went past her, presumably to where Talia Winters stood. "Yes."  
"Good." Stalking toward the door, her headache finally receding, she gestured for Michael to follow. As she stepped through the threshold, one final thought struck.  
"And Talia? Hate the haircut."

[End Part 19]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	20. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 20

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_April 26, 2264_  
  
"This appears to be the weakest point in the supply line," Alina said, pointing to a spot on the map just outside of the blip corresponding to the Syria Planum facility. "A hit there should take it down for at least a week. Probably more like two."  
Andrew stared at the map. "I don't get it," he said with a slow shake of his head. "Why don't we just hit the transport tubes and get it over with? They'll be isolated for at least a month that way."  
Alina sighed. "And precisely how do you propose Susan get the Grin masks to us, Andrew? Marsdome Parcel Service? We can't stage the full raid on Syria Planum without them."  
"Garibaldi can-"  
"No, Andrew," Lyta interrupted sharply. "She's right. We can't hit transit lines. There's just too much of a risk to the innocents."  
Andrew stabbed at the display with a stylus. "Right here. These tubes don't run between two and six in the morning. No innocents."  
Alina turned toward him, fighting hard to keep her patience. "And why do you think that is, hmm?"  
She was met by an angry, confused glare.  
Squaring her shoulders, Alina took a step closer. "Maintenance. That's when they do upkeep on the system. Last I checked, some of those maintenance workers were actually on our side."  
Andrew's face fell.  
Alina's hand went to his shoulder. "What is it, Andrew? You usually think these things through much more than that."  
He shook his head. *Nothing.*  
*I know a lie when I feel it. I'm not going away that easily.*  
The image of a small, exquisitely adorable girl with shoulder-length golden hair and blue eyes that literally sparkled leapt into her mind. *It's your daughter, isn't it?*  
Sadness, regret, the pain of loss.  
Andrew ever-so-slightly nodded. *Today was her birthday.*  
Alina's entire being sank with him, memories of losing Will, and finding Marcus beyond her true reach were open wounds in her soul. Psi Corps wasn't responsible for them, but she still understood the pain. *Bester's going to pay, Andrew. They all are. When we're done there won't be anything left of the Corps. We'll start from the ground up, I promise.*  
*I know. It's just sometimes I-*  
*Want to grab a nuke, run off on your own and do something monumentally stupid?*  
Andrew nodded, then turned and strode away from the conference table.  
When he was outside of hearing range, Lyta whispered, "I didn't want to listen, but I heard. I don't like it, Alina. Just because it's his daughter's-"  
"Just because today was his daughter's birthday? Do you mourn on Byron's birthday, Lyta?"  
The redhead's voice slowly raised in volume. "Now, don't bring him-"  
"He wasn't your flesh and blood, Lyta. You loved him, yes, but it was only for a little while. You told me that you were raised by the Corps. How old were you when they came? Four? Five? You cannot possibly understand what it's like to really have a family."  
Lyta's indignance was palpable. "Oh, and you can?"  
Alina closed her eyes, forcing a calm she did not truly feel over herself.  
Andrew's behavior she could comprehend. She had personally organized a small memorial service for the Rangers that had been under her command on White Star 22 after hearing of William Cole's death.  
Losing someone who had been close enough to be family had been difficult enough, but losing a wife, a daughter? No, it would take months, if not years, for Andrew to bounce back from that big a loss. He may have seemed fine, but underneath that exterior was a man with a mission. Vengeance could motivate the weakest of hearts. She understood that, the need to make things right, the need to grieve.  
Grief made sense.  
Lyta, however, was beginning to give her concern. Alarm bells were going off in Alina's mind, alarm bells that she had hoped to never hear again. She prayed to as many deities as she could think of that for once, she was wrong.  
With a deep breath, she opened her eyes on the redhead and stared deeply into those dark hazel eyes. She backed the stare with a slight telepathic restraint. When she was certain that it was working, Alina said, "More than you'll ever know, Lyta. I'll go talk to Andrew. Can you have our ground people go with the attack as is?"  
Lyta sighed.  
"Attack at dawn. Not a second before. If they need any further instructions, they can find me."  
Lyta remained still. At the precise moment when Alina was beginning to think her wishes weren't going to be followed, the redhead turned and stalked away.  
_Bloody hell. In Valen's name, I can't handle both of them._ Alina searched the corridors surrounding the conference room. _Might as well deal with the lesser of two evils. Okay, if I'd just had memories like those dredged up, where would I go?_  
It only took seconds for her to decide. Sprinting off down a side tunnel, she sensed him within seconds.  
He was precisely where she had expected he would be, staring through the tiny window beside the airlock door. He didn't move as she approached, just continued to gaze at the coppery Martian surface.  
A quick inspection of the rack beside the tunnel wall found breather masks for every surface-worthy coat there. Going outside without even those would be akin to suicide.  
_And he, of all people, would know that._  
"Don't worry, I'm not going out there."  
"I know."  
Despair rolled off of him in waves. "I just . . . . Alina, I don't like that plan of attack. It's not going to do us any long-term good. We need to hit those transit tubes."  
"Long-term good?" she asked, walking up beside him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she attempted to project comfort in that touch. "Andrew, we need to get those masks from Susan, otherwise everything she has gone through will be for nothing. After she gets out of there, we'll reconsider your idea. It should only be two or three more weeks."  
Andrew grumbled.  
Nudging him telepathically, she said, "Can you wait that long?"  
He slowly turned toward her, blue eyes troubled and just the slightest bit angry. "I'll have to, won't I?"  
  
----------  
  
_May 1, 2264_  
  
"How's it going, Ivanova? What's the progress?"  
Garibaldi grinned from the viewscreen like the cat that ate the canary. Susan wished that she could share that smile, but the dull throb in her head was blocking any cheer. "Best I can tell, we're about halfway there. I've got two leads taken care of, but there are still two more I want to check out. Unless something else shows up, give me a couple more weeks. Everything should be wrapped up by the thirteenth."  
"Good to hear it," Michael replied. "The Corps isn't giving you grief?"  
Susan smiled thinly at Talia Winters' reflection in the viewscreen. "Nothing that can't be dealt with."  
"Diplomatic, as always. I knew we put the right person in charge of this. Keep me updated."  
With a curt nod, Susan terminated the connection.  
"Who are your other two leads?" Talia asked in a silken voice that, in another time, would have sent a pleasurable shiver down Susan's spine. "I'll have them brought in for questioning."  
Susan stared at the blonde. After ten days of working with the Talia that Psi Corps had implanted years before, she still despised the woman. This Talia was nothing like the woman she had loved, a fact that had caused endless amounts of grief in the last few days. Innuendo flew from Talia's mouth with impunity in a vain attempt to cause strong emotion and breach her telepathic defenses. If she'd been without Alina's blocks, it might have worked.  
The innuendo did cause the strong emotion; that much was, to Susan's chagrin, certain.  
"You could _allow_ me to help you, Susan. Mister Bester did assign me to you, after all."  
"It's not going to work, Miss Winters," Susan said, putting special emphasis on the form of address. "This new personality of yours is light on the brains if you think it is."  
The blonde feigned innocence. "What isn't going to work?"  
Susan sank slowly onto the sofa, forcing every ounce of emotion from her features. "Trying to get near me again to get the secrets of this investigation."  
One black-gloved hand spread across Talia Winters' chest. "Whoever said that was wrong, Susan."  
Locking eyes with Talia, Susan stared coldly. Her surface thoughts were bland, emotionless. Behind the blocks, however, Susan was seething.  
It had taken every ounce of control not to kill Talia Winters whenever they were in the same room. Scan after scan after unauthorized (not to mention fruitless) scan had been attempted by the woman since Susan's arrival, yet Talia hadn't breached the blocks that Alina had installed.  
Susan was definitely going to owe the Ranger a big favor at some point, and soon.  
She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it as she felt Miss Winters try a scan once again. It wasn't nearly as sophisticated a scan as the numerous attempts Andrew had made. Where his had been serpentine, insidious, this held all of the subtlety of a battering ram. Folding her arms over her chest, Susan leaned back against the sofa and decided to let the blonde do her worst.  
Minutes seemed like hours. Beads of sweat glistened on Talia's fair skin.  
_For a Psi Cop,_ Susan mused, _she's weak. Probably a low P11 at best._  
She'd attempted to read Talia's Psi Corps file as part of the investigation, but it was buried beneath security Susan simply hadn't had a proper chance to breach. It intrigued her that this Talia was a Cop. She'd heard that multiple-personality telepaths could have different psi levels, but it was interesting to see it in person.  
_Wonder if I should stop her? Might sprain something if she tries any harder._  
Talia pulled back from her battering ram assault, opting instead for an attack that was all-too familiar to Susan -- but from another time, another place.  
From a cloud that she had nearly lost her life in the center of at Coriana Six.  
_Pinpricks. It feels like a million pinpricks. God, the Planet Killer._  
Even though the blocks were still holding firm, Susan put a bit more of her own strength around them in a blanket. If even the slightest hole existed, Talia had a chance of finding it.

----------

Alina leaned her right shoulder against the tunnel wall, a wide smile on her face as Andrew told yet another sweetly amusing tale of his daughter.  
"And Alex, she walks right up to the guy and smiles. Next thing we know he's bought her the stuffed animal."  
"Sounds like your daughter was quite a piece of work."  
The gentle smile that had been on his face throughout the story faded back to sadness, but not quite the despair that she had seen days before. "She was," he replied.  
Taking both of his hands into hers, she fought past the surface pain that met her. "And so long as you remember her, tell her stories, smile at the memories, she will never die, Andrew."  
"That something the Minbari taught you?"  
"No," she replied. Memories of her own were beginning to surface, memories that were best saved for another time. "It's experience. I'm not saying it's easy, Andrew. To this day, I grieve for my mother, and she died when I was four. Some losses take time. I understand Susan lost her mother almost as young as I -"  
"Alina?"  
She tried to finish her thought, fought valiantly to get the words out, but all she could do was whisper, "God, the Cloud."  
"Cloud?"  
Visions of darkness filled Alina's consciousness; black clouds, ships sitting dead in space, pinpricks sharp against her mind, but the most overwhelming thing was the icy cold fear. The last time she could recall sensing that much fear, she'd been sitting in the captain's chair of White Star 22, slowly freezing to death at Coriana Six.  
The cloud had been the Shadow Planet Killer, a vile weapon that propelled millions of missiles deep into a planet's core, exploding it from within. Only two other people on Mars had been at Coriana Six, Lyta and . . . .  
"Susan!"  
"What?"  
Alina attempted to shake off the hallucination, but it was too strong. Letting her fingers guide her, she turned and pressed her back against the wall. "I'm here," she whispered. "I hear you."  
For the briefest of moments, Alina dropped her telepathic guards. The barrage of voices that attacked her instantly, even over a kilometer from the Main Dome, was deafening. Her fingers dug into the wall as she fought to focus her attention. The ocean of minds slowly receded, until finally she isolated Susan's telepathic signal.  
_Who taught her to send? And how did she find the lifeline?_  
That was when it occurred to her precisely _why_ Susan might have been using the lifeline. When she had set the telepathic blocks into Susan's mind, Alina had also implanted a lifeline; a slender thread that ran between Susan's conscious thoughts and Alina's subconscious mind. Lyta had insisted upon it as a fallback measure, that way if Susan found out that they were being lured into a trap, that information could get to Alina faster than any communication Susan might have eventually managed. She had fought Lyta's initial mandate that Susan not be informed of any of this, but even with Andrew's arguments behind her, it was a futile gesture.   
Andrew's voice sounded in the distance. "The lifeline?"  
"Yes. She's being scanned."  
"Is it holding?"  
Alina gently extended herself along the line, as quickly as possible, until she began to get a sense of Susan. "Yes, but the scan isn't that strong."  
"Then why-"  
"It's got structure - in Valen's name, it's structured just like a Shadow Planet Killer."  
A blanket of cold settled across Alina's shoulders. She could feel the pinpricks in her own mind. Judging by the feelings that she was receiving from Susan, to her they were more like spikes.  
Susan was hardly taking the attack lying down, however. A layer of telepathic energy had been spread over the blocks, a layer that felt nothing like Alina's own energy.  
_Susan's a stronger telepath than I thought._ .

----------

Susan watched the expression on Talia's face with a sadistic pleasure. The pinpricks, which for a bit had felt like spikes boring into her skull, had abated. She could feel energy pouring over the blocks like wet cement, covering the holes, making them even stronger. Where the energy was coming from, she had no idea.  
But the surprise on Talia's features made it all worthwhile.  
The blonde continued her assault a minute or two longer, then retreated. Wiping away the perspiration that matted her brow, Talia broke eye contact and stepped toward the door.  
She got one step in before Susan was off of the sofa and had a hand clenched around her arm. In one deft move, Susan pushed the telepath back up against the wall, pressing her free arm against Talia's throat.  
"And if you _ever_ scan me again . . . ."  
Talia simply smiled a sweet, innocent smile. "And how do you know I was scanning you?"  
Susan pressed gently with her arm, fighting the urge to crush the woman's windpipe and be done with the whole thing. "I _will_ kill you. Garibaldi-"  
"Mister Garibaldi can't help you in here, Susan. The Corps is -"  
"The Corps is _nothing_. _You_ are nothing. It's time for some new assistance' from Psi Corps."  
With a final nudge against Talia's throat, Susan whirled on her heel and strode out the door.

[End Part 20]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	21. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 21

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_May 2, 2264_

Susan didn't even bother to knock as she stormed into Alfred Bester's office and dropped the requisition onto his desk.  
Typically unflustered by the interruption, Bester slowly scanned the request. "May I ask _why_ you require a new liaison, Captain? Miss Winters is-"  
"Trying to scan me illegally," Susan interrupted, punctuating her statement with her fist against the desk. "If she's not immediately removed from this case and disciplined, I'll do it myself!"   
Pressing what Susan figured was some sort of call button, Bester simply smiled in the paternal, all-knowing manner that drove Susan crazy. "Why do you think she would attempt such a highly illegal action? Surely you don't have proof of your accusation?"  
Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared across the desk. "Do you want the _whole_ list, or just a general overview?" She allowed memories of one of Alfred Bester's last visits to Babylon Five to move into her surface thoughts; memories of him approaching Garibaldi about a dust shipment that had made it onto the station illegally, memories of Bester's starfury approaching the station to dock, memories of clearing Command and Control so there would be no witnesses.  
The fear in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.  
A knock on the office door kept her from confirming _his_.  
"Enter," Bester said, a tightness barely registering in his voice.  
Susan retreated at the sound of the door opening, turning so that her back was neither to Bester nor toward the new arrival. It was a healthy case of paranoia, the kind that kept her alive and one eye on Bester at all times.  
A young man with neatly trimmed black hair came in, closing the door behind him. He strode over and stood at near-attention before Bester's desk. If he'd been in Earthforce, Susan might have been impressed.  
_This guy's got wannabe military' written all over him._  
She noted that he was about her height, give or take an inch, with features that belied a heritage somewhere in one of the Oriental consortiums, she couldn't quite place which. He held himself with an almost military precision, even dressed in a rough brown, almost tweed, suit, and ivory shirt. She'd seen Garibaldi similarly attired once, but his suit had been a better fit. Psi Corps just didn't get the tailors the corporate execs got, she presumed. Although, this guy was in good shape for the Corps, almost good enough for Earthforce.  
_That clinches it. He's not a Cop, but if Bester can order him around, he's definitely not high on the trust me' list._  
"Mister Matheson," Bester said, putting on what Susan could only think of as his snake-oil salesman smile, "I would like you to meet Captain Ivanova."  
Matheson turned friendly eyes on her, which were considerably brighter than when he'd walked in. She'd seen that look before, but not since the height of the Shadow War when everybody and their brother had been worshipping John Sheridan as if he were some kind of god.  
"Captain," he jovially said, extending a gloved hand. "It's an honor to meet you."  
She stared at him for a long moment, deciding finally not to return the handshake. "Mister Matheson."  
His smile faded, and she wondered precisely why he believed that meeting her was such an honor'.  
Bester slowly rose from his chair. "Captain Ivanova has expressed an interest in having a different member of the Corps act as her liaison during the investigation she is conducting for Edgars-Garibaldi Industries."  
Matheson's face lit up like a sunrise. "Sir."  
"You will assist her with anything she needs," Bester continued. "Files, personnel, general cultural information regarding the Corps. If she asks you to jump, you ask her how high."  
"Yes, sir!"   
The excitement coming from the kid nearly filled the room. "Mister Matheson," Susan began, "understand one thing. If you give me even the slightest hint that you're trying to scan me, you'll find yourself on the surface without a breather. Got that?"  
Matheson visibly swallowed. "Yes, Captain."  
Susan raised a dark eyebrow at that. For a kid, he picked up quickly. "Good. Meet me in my office first thing in the morning. Dismissed."  
Matheson gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel, and stepped out of Bester's office. When the door was closed, Ivanova turned back to Bester. "Miss Winters-"  
"I will investigate your allegations, Captain. Myself. If she has broken our rules, the appropriate disciplinary actions will be taken."  
Susan's brain attempted to concoct various punishments for the blonde, but not a single one fit the crime. "What's the punishment for an illegal scan?"  
Bester simply stared.  
"Call it curiosity," she quickly added.  
"If I find that your allegations are true," he said, clinching his good hand, "Miss Winters will spend a month in the reeducation facility adjacent to this complex. There she will be instructed in the error of her ways."  
Images of a snowball in Hell began forming in Susan's mind. No matter. Even if Bester did nothing, which she fully expected, Susan had still accomplished her primary goal. Of course, now she had this Matheson kid to figure out. She'd seen telepaths that had wanted to be military before their abilities surfaced before, but Matheson was a bit on the overeager side. It was just enough to raise her suspicions.  
Not to mention make her glad that she had submitted the complaint about Talia Winters to Bester's superiors.

----------

_May 3, 2264_

"Yes, Elizabeth. That's it. You're picking this up rather quickly."  
The encouraging tone in Alina's voice, even from down the corridor, told Lyta that she had stumbled upon one of Alina's numerous training sessions for what she'd heard had been called the Circle. _Interesting,_ she thought. _Now I can see what's really going on with this. If she says it's nothing for me to worry about one more time, I think I'll scream._  
"Stefanie, that's good. Still a little on the rough side, but I think you're progressing quite nicely. Now, Mister Montoya," Alina said, disappointment tingeing her voice for the first time, "you should practice some more on the cellular repair."  
As quietly as she could manage, Lyta stuck her head around the doorframe to watch what was happening. She was a touch surprised when Alina handed a young man, Mister Montoya, Lyta presumed, a stack of what actually looked to be sheets of paper. "Here," Alina encouraged, "practice with this. Rip pieces and bind them back together again. If I can look at it under a microscope and not tell that there was any damage, you will be as far along as need be. Is that all right with you?"  
That was when Montoya's eyes raised, and he acknowledged Lyta's presence with a nod.  
Alina turned and smiled. "Something we can do for you, Lyta?"  
Stepping forward slowly, Lyta realized that she wasn't quite as certain about pursuing her original idea as she had been. Just the prospect of it was filling her stomach with dread. The last thing they needed was one of their own to turn against them. "I need to talk with you alone."  
"Of course," she replied. With a nod to her students, she gestured toward the corridor. "I wanted to speak with you, too. I suspect it's the same subject matter."  
"Susan?" Lyta asked as they reached a quiet area.  
Alina nodded. "Andrew told you?"  
Lyta's stomach fell to somewhere around her knees. "She really did find the lifeline?"  
"I had nothing to do with it," she stated. "Susan - I don't know how she found it."  
"It doesn't matter." Lyta stalked across the small chamber, fighting to control the feelings that were rising. Susan's reputation for vengeance was legendary. If she found out that it was Lyta's order that put the lifeline into her mind. _I don't want to think about that._  
"She's going to want to know why it was there," Alina said.  
One red eyebrow raised. "Really? And here I thought she was just going to have my head."  
Alina placed a hand on her arm. "Put it on me if you have to. She doesn't have to know that you were even involved. No, it wasn't what you intended. She found it in a panic, that's all I know. You were there, Lyta. You know what the Shadow Planet Killer was like."  
"I'm not surprised the Corps is teaching that attack pattern," Lyta said. "Now that we know, we need to teach our people a defense for it."  
_If there is one._

----------

_May 7, 2264_

"I've got an idea."  
Those words would not normally have given Lyta Alexander pause. Everyone got ideas, small ideas, big ideas, good ideas, bad ideas. It was an everyday occurrence, one might even say it was normal for people to get ideas.  
It was the person whose brain had come up with this particular notion, whatever it happened to be, that caused Lyta to pay attention. Michael Garibaldi never had ideas that were anything resembling mundane. Most of his ideas bordered on universe-altering. Besides, he was just as much a part of everything as she was. If he had an idea, it certainly bore hearing out.  
"What is it?" she asked, staring across the conference table.  
He held out a closed fist. Turning his palm upward, he opened his hand. A small, dull silver capsule, perhaps an inch long, rested in his outstretched palm.  
"That's very nice, Michael. What am I looking at?"  
Garibaldi smiled a wide, conspiratorial smile. "A homing beacon."  
"A what? What do we need-"  
"Think about it," he said. "Just think about it, Lyta. What if one of this bunch gets captured during this attack. How would you find them?"  
Lyta shrugged. "Telepathically," she replied. Was there any other way?  
Garibaldi leaned closer. "What if they've been given sleepers?"  
"_I_ could still sense them."  
Garibaldi's grin turned tight. "What if you can't track them for some reason?"  
She wanted to smile, but resisted. Raising one red eyebrow, she attempted to feign ignorance. "Why wouldn't-"  
"Look, Lyta, just humor me here, okay?" he asked, exasperated.  
Still resisting a smile, Lyta nodded. "Okay. Say one of my people were captured and I wanted to find them," she said, the patronizing tone in her voice making it very clear that she was only playing along. "What would you have for me, Michael? What is this homing beacon about?"  
He carefully handed her the tiny device. "My best engineer designed this. Guy has a fixation for anything that ties into telepathy, and he's one of the best I've ever seen at what he does. Only problem is that these won't work on telekinetics. They'll only work on telepaths."  
All inclination toward humor left her at that point. "That would be a problem."  
"Easily remedied by making sure that no telekinetic goes out alone."  
"Or making sure they don't go out at all." Thinking it over for a few moments, she added, "I'm interested. How are these things at getting past security scanners?"  
Garibaldi's Cheshire-cat grin made a reappearance. "They'll pass ninety-eight percent of the scanners used today. The only ones we had a problem with were Minbari-made scanners. We're still working that one out." His voice took on the tone of a child with a new toy. "See, they're implanted right under the skin. Close enough to the surface so that you can get them out without it hurting too much, but still in far enough that the body's electrical impulses help them pass by the security scanners. When they're implanted, they're turned off. No power signature."  
Lyta raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What good does that do if they're turned off?"  
"Helps the masking," he replied. "Once you get them out of the skin, they're turned on."  
"Giving that person away to anyone who's listening, Corps or otherwise."  
"Not quite. They have to be triggered telepathically once they've got power. The idea is to calibrate it to the person's own telepathic . . . . signal. Whatever. Only the person that gets the implant will be able to turn it on."  
She studied the small device in her hand. It wasn't quite shadowtech, she'd have felt it if that were the case. How had they done it? Vorlon technology? _No. I'd know it if they went to Vorlon. They couldn't have gone there without my knowing it._  
If they weren't shadowtech . . . and they weren't Vorlon tech . . . what the devil were they? Lyta's palm closed around the small capsule. If there was one thing she knew for certain, she had to inspect these things more closely   
"One of your engineers came up with these?"  
He nodded. "Why?"  
"Michael, where did the design come from? You know as well as I do that we don't have this kind of tech."  
"Ah," he said, brightening, "that's the beauty of it. It's part of old William Edgars' anti-telepath campaign. Best I can tell, the plans for these things were abandoned when he found the virus." Holding one of the small capsules between his fingers, he continued, "My guess is that these were originally going to be implanted into newborns, and as soon as telepathic abilities surfaced, they would trigger. I'm not sure what they were originally supposed to carry, but the trigger was definitely workable. We figured out how to adapt it to function with a homing beacon."  
"How long does the calibration take?"  
Garibaldi shrugged. "The process isn't quite perfected yet. It takes maybe two or three days for each one."  
She had to admit, it was a good idea. Her abilities would probably be able to track even a sleeper-affected telepath, but what if something happened to her? Her people had to have a way to find each other. "Okay. You've got six days. Start with Alina's Circle. They're more important right now."  
"What about-"  
"I'm no different than Byron was. If anything happened to me, someone else would take my place. Alina's telepaths, though, we can't replace. Start with them."  
Garibaldi nodded. "Tomorrow."  
"No," Lyta flatly stated. "You'll start today."

----------

_May 10, 2264_

_Three more days._  
Susan drained the last of her coffee with something akin to trepidation. Three days before the crew was scheduled to come in, and she had absolutely no leads on the final two masks. Her first instinct had been to just ask Marcus in one of her dreams, to go back to that time-honored tradition of consulting with advisors.  
_Of course, I'm still not convinced he's anything more than a figment of my imagination, but it's better than nothing._  
Another thought struck as she stared into the empty mug. _Besides, he hasn't shown up since I got here. Maybe I really was dreaming it all._  
With a loud sigh, she reached for another folder.  
That was when she heard the woman screaming.  
"I said no!"  
Susan grabbed the PPG from her desk drawer as she stood. The sounds of a scuffle began coming from someplace close.  
"C'mon," a slurred male voice said, "you know you want it."  
"No!"  
Susan was through the door before another word could be spoken. Sprinting in the direction of the sounds, she called out, "Get away from her, now!"  
"Help me, please! Get off!"  
Rounding a corner, Susan ran up to what normals would have considered a crime in progress. The poor woman was being pinned against the wall by a heavyset man easily twice her size. The woman was pounding her fists furiously against his chest. Considering that she was possibly an inch or two over five feet tall, this was no mean feat.  
"C'mon, Sara. Gimme a little kiss," the man said. He was easily more intoxicated than any human being Susan had ever seen.  
_Hell, he might even be able to give Londo a run for his money. Just what I needed. A horny, drunk telepath._  
"I said get away from her, now!"  
He backed away from Sara slowly, his meaty hands reaching toward his waist. In his intoxication, however, he made a mistake. He backed away just far enough to let Sara wiggle free and run to where Susan stood.  
"He's drunk," she attempted to explain.  
"No, really?"  
"Be careful, he's a P12."  
_Great, a drunk Psi Cop. It only gets better._  
"Wow! Two pretties!" The man staggered toward them, belt unbuckled and the zipper of his trousers partially undone. "You _are_ a pretty one, aren't you? I've always wanted to try a threesome."  
Susan charged the PPG and aimed it directly at the man's groin. "Give me one good reason not to blow your brain off right now."  
The man staggered slightly attempting to follow Susan's line of sight. He smiled what she could only consider a blatantly patronizing smile. "Dat's not where my brain is."  
"Maybe not," she coldly replied. "But it's sure as hell what you're thinking with right now."  
He took a step forward.  
"I'm serious," she warned. "One step closer and it's self-defense."  
What must have been an attempt at an erotic look crossed the man's pudgy features. "Dangerous women are such a turn-on."  
"Then you'll die very happy."  
"Mister Medfield, don't!" Sara said, much more calmly than before.  
"Medfield?" Susan asked. She was getting tired of holding a gun on the man's privates. Maybe knowing the man's name would get some progress. "Medfield, zip your pants up and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and know that I _will_ file a report on this tomorrow!"  
"Don't wanna," Medfield replied.  
Susan aimed directly between the man's eyes. "Don't make me kill you." Gesturing with the gun, she ordered, "Back into your office."  
Medfield's meaty hands rubbed together in anticipation. "Wanna do it in my office? Excellent."  
With a sigh, Susan realized that there was no way the idiot was going to take anything she said as something other than innuendo. She really didn't want to kill the guy just for being drunk and disorderly. Attempted rape was a pretty good reason, though. It was enough to put Susan on the proverbial fence. Shaking her head, Susan lowered the PPG and stepped toward Medfield. P12 or not, there was only one way out of this situation. "You're not worth it."  
Curling her fingers into a fist, she put Medfield down with one punch.  
Turning back toward Sara, she coaxed the woman toward her office. "Come on, let's get you a cup of coffee and figure out what to do with that idiot."

----------

_May 11, 2264_

"We've got to blow that transit line on our way out. With Susan out, why not?"  
"Because it would leave the entire facility without a way to bring in food?"  
Lyta's only partially sarcastic reply fell on deaf ears as Andrew continued with his argument. It was one she'd heard a thousand times in the last week. _Something tells me that sticking my fingers in my ears and humming really loud just wouldn't improve the situation._  
It was a simple plan, if she really thought about it. Send a small team - three, maybe four people - to attack the one remaining transit line into Syria Planum. Andrew had, to Lyta's abject surprise, managed to tone the assault plan down this time. _At least he's not talking tactical nukes anymore._  
When he'd finished what she had long since dubbed Schpiel 957, Lyta slowly arched one red eyebrow. "No nukes this time. I'm impressed."  
"Lyta-"  
"Andrew, what you're talking about is basically laying siege to the place. We don't have the people to support it. Besides, the mundanes are starting to side with Psi Corps. Garibaldi said there's something before Earthgov that would-"  
"Politics!" Andrew pounded the table. "Lyta, you have never given a damn about politics for as long as I've known you. We're fighting our own civil war, here. Sure, until now it's been small-scale bombings and stuff like that, but don't you think it's time we showed them we are serious? Sheridan-"  
A shudder ran down Lyta's spine. Deep inside her soul, she felt the sleeping darkness begin to stir. "Sheridan," she began in a low voice, "was a fool. He played dice with the universe." Her vision began to blur, slowly resolving into a grayscale version of her world. "He took things that were not his, used superior creatures as nothing more than cannon fodder. We will make certain that he pays for his transgressions."  
Having spoken its mind, the darkness receded back into its cubbyhole in her mind.  
_What the hell? What spawned that?_  
She hadn't touched the portion of herself that belonged to _them_ for quite a while. There simply hadn't been a need. It had helped her defeat them, even helped her destroy Z'ha'dum, but never before had it come out without an overt reason. All Andrew had done was mention . . . .  
She felt it stir within at the thought of his name, the thought of taking revenge upon John Sheridan for so callously using her people, the thought that there had not been so much as a note of gratitude for her people's sacrifices for his cause, the thought . . . .  
_All will be atoned for in due time,_ the darkness whispered as it returned to its slumber.  
She closed her eyes, willing her vision to clear. At that moment, she would have loved to see Andrew's face in color. In grayscale he looked white as a sheet.  
"What the hell was that, Lyta?"  
Opening her hazel eyes, she was happy that the world had returned to its usual Technicolor. The darkness used to stay in her vision for hours after she had touched it. At least this was an improvement.  
The sight of Andrew's expression was every bit as amusing as she had suspected. He looked as if he'd just seen a ghost, which wasn't that far from the truth.  
"It's nothing, Andrew."  
"Nothing? You call _that_ nothing?"  
"Yes, I do," she said, putting as much finality to her voice as she could manage.  
The look in his eyes said that he was fighting pursuit of the subject. When she caught his surface thoughts, they were fearful, panicky. That was when the plan formed.  
"Andrew," she began, attempting to soothe him. "Stage a decoy raid on the transit line. Three or four people. Interfere with it. Keep them distracted from us."  
She could sense his surprise. "You want to do it?"  
"I see the advantages of the idea now," she replied. "You organize it, but keep it separate from the main plan of Alina's. Now that I think about it, there's no sense troubling her with it at all."  
Andrew watched her for a long moment, his skepticism written on his face. Finally, he said, "This is a test, isn't it? Whether or not I'll blow it up?"  
With a small smile, Lyta turned on her heel and left him to figure it out.

----------

_May 12, 2264 - 1:17 a.m._

"This is going to take all night," Susan said, punctuating the statement with a loud sigh.  
"More coffee, Captain?"  
Susan somewhat blearily glanced at Matheson. She wasn't certain whether to kiss him for mentioning it, or berate him for thinking that he had to ask. "Word of advice, Mister Matheson. Learn what your superiors want _before_ they want it." Handing him her empty mug, she added, "With me, asking is redundant."  
Matheson smiled, picking up the mug. "So noted."  
No sooner had he left the small office than Sara walked in, folder of flimsies in her slender hand. "This one you might find interesting, Captain," she said, handing her the sheet in question. "It looks like a report from someone named Wade dated in the right time frame."  
"Thanks, Sara. I'm glad we were able to work out getting you involved here."  
Sara "So am I, Captain."  
Sara Susan scanned the document. It was precisely the one they had been looking for all night. "Remind me to bless Garibaldi for getting these documents released."  
Sara raised dark eyebrows. "I take it that's helpful?"  
"It's exactly what we've been looking for," Susan replied. Reading further, she was troubled by the fact that this Wade person had been essentially working for the Corps, reporting back to Bester as often as was possible. _Wonder if he didn't get the same programming as Talia. Psi Corps must have known about that virus. Garibaldi said that Edgars used to have telepaths working for him for just such an occasion._ Susan read on, seeing for the first time the true details of the telepath-hating virus. Genetic recombination, modified DNA, it was a nasty little bug William Edgars had developed from the genetic defects of two telepaths in the Corps. Amazing when she actually thought about it. A man who hated telepaths as much as she'd gathered William Edgars had, working covertly with them to genetically engineer their downfall. _Well, considering that we were genetically engineered to begin with, suppose that's a nice Russian ending._  
She read it through, along with the attached reports of two other Corps operatives, operatives who had been sent in to kill Edgars and get the vial. Operatives who had telepathically coerced Edgars into accessing his wall safe and giving it to them right before they killed him.  
If she had ever wanted concrete evidence against the Psi Corps' dirty tricks squad, she held it in her hands.  
"If that's it, Captain," Matheson said, re-entering with a steaming mug of coffee. "Where is it being kept?"  
Susan scanned the reports from the two assassins. "Some lab called Gamma Level."  
"Never heard of it," Matheson replied, shaking his head.  
"Nor should you have," Sara added, running a hand over her chestnut brown hair. "It's even a rumor here, and it's supposed to be part of this place."  
"I knew there was a reason I wanted you in this, Sara," Susan said, taking a sip from the warm mug. The brew tasted passable. It would certainly do in a pinch. "What have you heard?"   
Sara slowly lowered into the chair opposite Susan. Ivanova could sense fear coming from the young woman like never before, not even in Medfield's presence. "It's almost like something you tell a child when you want to keep them away from something. Horror stories, mostly. Even worse than the Grins. People go in and never come out. All sorts of bizarre things going on. The way I heard about it, you'd think it was some sort of mad scientist's laboratory."  
"Makes me wonder if our virus didn't originate there," Susan said.  
"If the stories are even remotely true," Sara stated, "it's entirely possible."  
Susan leaned back in her chair. "The big question is, if this Gamma Level really does exist, how do we get in there?"  
Sara pensively tapped a finger with her lips. "Well, the stories say that only the most powerful telepaths in the Corps can come and go from Gamma Level. The most powerful, and the most loyal."  
"Sounds like a Psi Cop to me," Matheson offered.  
"Yes. Yes, it does." Susan's eyes turned to Matheson's, wondering precisely how much of the Corps' dirty tricks squad he had seen before this assignment. _I'm willing to bet absolutely none of it. This must be one hell of a learning experience._  
Susan reached over to her computer terminal, quickly pulling up a map of the facility. "So a Psi Cop can get us in. The question is whether a Psi Cop would know where the place is. It's sure as hell not going to be on any of the maps." Scrolling through the various levels, she reached the diagram of the facility's third, and apparently least used, level. It was there that she noticed the discrepancy. "On second thought, maybe it is."  
"You're kidding," Matheson said, walking around the desk.  
"I've never seen it on any map of this place," Sara added.  
Susan studied the map more closely. "It's what's not on the map that gives it away."  
Sara walked around the desk and leaned over Susan's shoulder. "That's the storage level. Hardly anybody ever really goes there."  
"Okay, I'll buy that. It's storage. All of this space is storage. But what about this?" She pointed to an area of the map that was devoid of information. To the casual observer, it would have appeared as simply rock underground, space where digging had yet to occur, which was precisely what Susan had first thought. "This is space that's occupied on every single level above and below it. For six out of seven levels, this space is occupied. You're telling me they didn't bother to dig that space out on the third level down?"  
Susan's eyes went from Matheson to Sara, both looked as if the thought had never occurred to them before.  
"That's it," Sara breathed. "It really does exist."  
Susan smiled. "Now all we need is a Psi Cop that we can blackmail."  
Sara smiled devilishly, and reached for the comm unit.

[End Part 21]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	22. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 22

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_May 12, 2264 - 3:35 a.m._

"Captain, you can't-"  
"Can't?" Susan charged the PPG. "Mister Medfield, I should think that you'd be very tired of me holding a gun on you by now."  
Medfield swallowed. "Maternis, paternis," he stated, leaning toward the speaker embedded in the wall. "Permission, gamma."  
Two seconds that seemed like an eternity later, the computer replied, "Voice recognition confirmed." The door slid aside to reveal a forebodingly dark tunnel.  
Medfield attempted to step aside, gesturing for Susan, Sara and Matheson to enter first.   
"Thanks," Susan replied, "but no thanks. You first, Mister Medfield."  
Medfield's eyes widened. "Status, green," he added to the microphone.  
"Security countermeasures disabled," the computer replied.  
Susan's finger fidgeted on the trigger.  
Sara, however, simply rolled her eyes and followed Medfield through the door.  
Matheson turned to follow, until Susan put a hand on his arm. "Sure you want to go through with this? You can still go back to the office and wait for us."  
She caught a glimpse of his eyes, and was not surprised at the sense of betrayal in them. "No," he replied. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. I think I need to see whatever's down here."  
"It could be something you're better off not seeing."  
"What could be worse than what I've seen so far?" he asked, stepping through the doorway.  
_Sometimes, kid, that's not the right attitude._  
"What's that noise?" Sara asked from the inner corridor.  
Susan stepped through. "What noise?"  
A wail the likes of which Susan had never heard echoed in the darkened tunnel. Despair, pain and anguish were all encompassed in the sheer volume of the sound. It was the sound of loss, mind-numbing, soul-searing loss. "Matheson, take Mister Medfield here and get the vial. Sara, come with me."  
Matheson attempted to protest, but Susan cut him off with a wave. "I'm ordering you to go get that vial, John."  
The use of his first name was enough to get his attention, precisely as she had expected. _I don't know why I'm keeping him from this. Whatever it is, he should see everything. Something about the kid, though. There are times he reminds me of myself at that age._  
He gave a curt nod, taking Medfield's arm as they walked off down an intersecting corridor. Susan hoped that he took her orders as seriously as he seemed. _If he comes back with Medfield **and** that vial, then he does. Damn, why do I have the feeling I'm trusting him further than I should?_  
Another wail answered her question.  
"Captain?" Sara asked.  
"Come on," Susan said, following the echoes through the tunnels. This time, she took point. If there were any dangers, she suspected that they would be higher around the research area. _They don't call it secure research' for nothing._ Whatever this was, it didn't feel like anything to do with research. Dread began to well in the pit of her stomach as she ventured toward what she thought was the source of the sound. The echo made it difficult to localize.  
After a few seconds of walking in near-darkness, they came to a door. "End of the line," Susan breathed.  
"Looks like it."  
Susan scanned the walls, wishing for better lighting. "I don't see an access panel."  
Sara stepped closer to the wall. "Me, either."  
"Think there are any weapons scanners down here?" Susan asked, adjusting her grip on the PPG.  
"If there were," Sara softly answered, "they'd have gone off when we got through the front door."  
"Good point. Typical Corps arrogance." Susan pointed at a small red light that was at precisely the level she would have expected to see an access panel. "There. A couple of shots should do it."  
Both women aimed, and Susan was proven right. The door slid aside with a hiss and they were greeted with a stench the likes of which Susan hadn't experienced since her last trip into the bowels of Down Below back on Babylon Five. She fought to keep control of her stomach as she stepped into the room. The wailing had softened when they reached the door. Susan now realized why. It had turned to sobbing. "Oh. My. God."  
The source of the noise was a young woman - at least, Susan thought it was a woman. She was hunched over in the center the room.   
Judging by the size of the place, it could have been a conference room in a prior life. The door behind her was the only break in the blackness of the walls. Dark rags piled in corners served as makeshift beds. The light was stark, as if they'd installed lighting fixtures as an afterthought. Susan counted three air vents in the ceiling, but it wasn't enough to eliminate the stale smell of urine as it mixed with sweat, blood and something vaguely resembling long-spoiled meat.  
People - she presumed that once they had been people - milled around the small room. She counted fifteen individuals. If their builds were anything to go by, most were male. Every one of them was dressed in a similar black uniform in varying degrees of tatters. All of their heads were clean-shaven, and it looked as though that was the only thing about them that was maintained. Not a soul in the room showed the slightest bit of hair growth. Every bald head showed some form of scarring. _Surgical scars. They've had their heads cut open._  
The sobbing grew in volume, and Susan stepped over to the young woman in the center of the room. She was thin, dangerously thin, with cheeks that were beginning to sink into her skull. Tears streamed from her eyes, over her unnaturally pronounced cheekbones, dropping onto a small bundle in her arms.  
"Let me help," Susan whispered. She reached toward the small, black-wrapped object. Instinct told her that it was an infant. _For her to be crying like that...._  
The woman quickly pulled the bundle closer, away from any prying eyes - or hands. The action alone confirmed Susan's suspicions. It hadn't been just any infant. Judging by the level of emaciation, it was probably the only infant the woman would ever bear.  
Susan turned to find Sara looking around, white as a sheet and obviously fighting tears. "Where are we?" Sara asked.  
"My guess? The re-education center," Susan replied.  
Sara fiercely shook her head, almost as if she were trying to forcibly remove the experience from her brain. "No. The Corps would not do this to its own people. It's bad, but not this bad."  
Susan raised an eyebrow. "This from the woman whose boss tried to attack her?"  
Sara remained silent, eyes wide and fearful.  
_I wish there was something to tell her. God knows this is going to be with me for a while._  
That was when she noticed the person in the corner.  
From what she could see, Susan thought it was a woman. Whoever she was, she hadn't been there for very long. Her scalp was still a pale pinkish-gray, what had been her hairline pale against the rest of her otherwise peach-like complexion. A recent, and sizeable, incision was healing just over her left ear. Her uniform was still new, or at least close to it. Susan recognized something familiar in the curled up figure. "You, in the corner. What's your name?" A knot of guilt formed in Susan's stomach as she finally recognized the woman. _Ten days. It's only been ten days._  
"You know full well what my name is, my dear Susan," Talia's deep voice replied. "Are you happy now?"  
The PPG, forgotten since she'd seen the bundled infant, was suddenly a palpable weight in Susan's hand. "If this is what you get for abusing your abilities," she replied in a voice that was far more calm than she actually felt, "then yes. Yes, I am."  
Talia stared for a long moment, long enough for Susan to see the surprise in the telepath's eyes. _She didn't expect me to report her. She honestly didn't think I'd do it._  
A rustling from the hallway pulled Susan's attention away from the situation at hand. Following the sound, she found Matheson standing in the doorway, Medfield's arm in one hand and something she hadn't expected to actually see in the other. Matheson was standing there holding not one, but three Grin masks. His eyes were slowly taking in the room. She suspected that the look of shock on his features very closely mirrored the one she must have had mere minutes before. "That was fast. Where's the vial?" she asked.  
He shook his head quickly, almost as if he were willing the vision out of his memory. "Pocket," he said, gesturing with one hip. Holding the masks up, he added, "Thought these might be handy getting out of here."  
Susan made a mental note to double-check her telepathic shields when they got out of this. Gesturing toward the room around her, she looked directly at Medfield. "What the hell is this?"  
A pained look spread across his features.  
_Good, I hope it hurts him to see this as much as it does me._  
"Mister Medfield?" she prompted.  
"The secret relocation center," he answered. "This is where the mistakes go."  
Susan and Matheson exchanged surprised looks. "Mistakes?" she asked.  
Medfield gulped. "Bureau Thirteen's experiments."  
Susan fought the urge to groan. Allied with the Shadows before the war, Bureau Thirteen, also known as the super-secret dirty tricks and intelligence branch of what had once been President William Clark's regime, had been blamed for more than a few atrocities and high-level political embarrassments in the nearly three years since the civil war. Her own ship had been the victim of one of those embarrassments.  
When it had been discovered that the first Warlock-class cruisers contained implanted shadowtech, public opinion had swerved so strongly that Earthforce had had no choice but to attempt damage control. While publicly the Warlocks had been completely retrofit to eliminate any shadowtech presence, Susan knew the truth. There was still too much rebuilding to be done because of the civil war. Earthforce simply didn't have the credits to retrofit that many brand new ships all the way to their cores.  
So, Bureau Thirteen's experiments had been tacitly allowed to continue, courtesy of a few cosmetic changes to the destroyers and the simple task of rechristening. Her ship had been born _The Titans_, but it lived as the _Valkyrie_, complete with its Vorlon resident in flight bay seven. She'd been told that the research had come to a halt when the secret of the Warlocks had been uncovered.  
"The experiments stop now," Susan stated, disgusted. "All of them. I've had everything I'm going to take of Thirteen and its so-called research."  
Sara found her voice, walking over to where Medfield stood captive. "This is exactly the kind of thing Senator Casinelli wants to know about. You know how sympathetic she is to the resistance. She's _begging_ to use something like this against the Corps. Free these people, and I won't call her in the morning."  
"You're presuming too much if you think I have the power to-"  
"You know more about this than you're telling," Sara continued. "You may not have the power, but you know who does."  
Susan quickly stepped up behind Sara and aimed the charged PPG at Medfield's temple. "These people haven't eaten for a while, Mister Medfield. There are no weapons sensors in here. Do you really want to be the lunch special?"  
Medfield's eyes shot open. "N-n-n-no."  
"Good. Now, you'll see that these people are freed?"  
Medfield quickly nodded.  
"And you'll see to it that they get good food, see a doctor?"  
Another quick nod.  
Slipping the safety back into place, Susan pulled the gun from the man's head. "I'll be checking on you, Medfield. If they're not out in twenty-four hours, I'll find you. Don't go to sleep tonight, because you might not wake up."  
Medfield visibly swallowed. "I can't do anything until morning. Paperwork-"  
Susan turned to Matheson, making it as clear as she could that she did not want to hear Medfield's lame excuses. "As soon as we get back to the surface, get them food." she instructed.  
Matheson nodded.  
Turning back to the unfortunate souls that surrounded her, she stated, "I'll get you out of here. If it isn't me, it will be one of my allies. I promise you this. You won't be here any longer than necessary."  
She could feel the hope rising in the people that surrounded her, uncertain hope, but hope, nonetheless. It was enough to give her a clue as to how the other telepaths felt about Lyta and Alina. _Now, all I have to do is make sure Medfield comes through. Have to let Matheson and Sara tend to that. In twenty-four hours, I fully intend to be on my way out of this hellhole. Major Ryan's definitely going to hear about this the next chance I get._  
"Come on," she said, turning toward the door. "I need to get in touch with Garibaldi."

----------

_May 12, 2264 - 7:58 p.m._

Alina checked and double-checked the main infiltration plan. _Yes, this is definitely going to work. Put Stefanie with Lyta and Andrew and myself going to the research lab. Glad he finally told me about that. Gives us a perfect target. Yes. As long as Susan and Mister Garibaldi-_  
"Here, try this."  
"That's got a good feel to it."  
The purr with which the second had been spoken got Alina's attention. After all of the training sessions, she would have recognized Elizabeth Graves' voice from a mile off. Leaning back against the wall, she willed herself invisible to Elizabeth and the person she was speaking with, Andrew Keene.  
"Andrew," Elizabeth asked, "what do you think's going to happen when we're done?"  
"When this is over?" he replied.  
"Yes. Are you going to stay on Mars?"  
There was a hesitation. "I'm not sure. I hear the Minbari treat their telepaths well."  
"The Minbari?" Graves replied, surprise in her voice.  
"Yes. Why?"  
"You'd be willing to hide out with a race that almost killed us? Andrew, they're no better than we are."  
Alina bit her tongue just short of hard enough to make it bleed. She'd dealt with anti-Minbari sentiment before, but the fact that she hadn't even sensed it in one of her own Circle was enough to give her pause. _Interesting that she's still knowingly involved in a ritual that was born of Minbari research._  
"Alina said-"  
"You believe everything she says?" Graves shot back.  
"She's been right so far," Andrew replied.  
"That doesn't mean that you have to blindly follow her, Andrew. She lived with the Minbari for so long. She's teaching Minbari techniques. Hell, the only thing keeping her from actually _being_ Minbari is genetics. Who knows what Delenn's working on, though. I mean, Andrew, they've got the Circle, what's to stop them from-"  
Andrew sighed. "Liz, look, I need you to handle this decoy raid, not preach to me. Can you do that?"  
"If you want me to handle it," she stated, "then let me blow it up. You know it's the only way."  
_Please, Andrew, come to your senses._  
Silence was the response Elizabeth Graves received.  
_Andrew...._  
"If you won't do it for me," Graves said, "then do it for them. I know you still love Renee, Andrew. You can't hide that. Let me help you avenge her death. You know that's what you want. Let's get them for her and Alex."  
Alina's fists balled at her sides. It was everything she could do to keep from walking into that room, but she knew this wasn't her battle. The fight was all Andrew's. He had to overcome the need for vengeance by himself. Her help would only make it worse.  
After the silence had reached the point of absurdity, she heard Andrew reply, "No. You are not going to blow it up. The only thing you use that PPG for is self defense, understood?"  
"Sure I can't convince you otherwise?" she purred.  
Alina swallowed the tirade that wanted to escape her lips at that. She walked off, not even certain that she wanted to hear the answer to that, but definitely convinced that she couldn't remain there any longer. She couldn't go against Lyta's orders without due cause. The division it would inevitably cause in the ranks simply wasn't worth it. But if Graves was crass enough to attempt to seduce him to get her way.

----------

_May 13, 2264 - 6:28 a.m._

"That's it, Delenn. Should anything happen to me during this assault, this should be all of the pertinent information. Make sure the telepaths here are moved to a safe area. One or two might have a problem working with Minbari, but if I am unable to, Lyta or Captain Ivanova should be able to convince them to work with you. Please make sure Mister Keene is taken in by the religious caste, if it's at all possible. He has suffered too much, and should know some peace in his time. Stefanie and her daughter should also be treated to everything that befits a telepath on Minbar. I know you'll care for them, Delenn. In case these truly become my last words to you, please tell Rathenn that I miss his friendship greatly and I truly hope that he would have been proud of what we've done here. Thank you, again. Even from the other side, I will be in the Grey Council's debt. Minette out."  
With a sigh, Alina hit the small button on the recorder that encoded the data. "Computer, use regular encryption techniques."  
"Encryption complete."  
She considered the contents of the data stream for another moment. "Computer, do you have the old White Star Command encryption coding?"  
Even the computer had to think on that. "Yes," it eventually replied.  
"Good. Add White Star Command encryption to this message."  
_We know the Shadows never got a decrypt for that one, which means only someone who was a White Star captain during the war will be able to decipher it. Them, or Delenn. That's safe enough for me._  
After a few seconds, the computer came back. "Second level encryption complete."  
Alina leaned back in her chair. "Good. Now add unencrypted message. Message reads," she paused, attempting to think of the properly ambiguous phrasing. "Entil'zha Delenn, as a member of White Star Command, you will find the attached of great interest. Sincerely, Liana Stewart, former captain, White Star Twenty-Two. Message ends."  
"Recording complete," the computer stated.  
"Eject crystal."  
The blush pink crystal slowly rose from the recorder. Picking it up, she stuck it into an inner pocket of her vest. _Now I just need to get this to Mister Garibaldi._  
Her eyes wandered to the clock on the small computer. It was time.

----------

_7:30 a.m._

Susan yawned fiercely as she slipped the bottle of aspirin back into her pack. After weeks of blessed peace, her headache had returned with a vengeance. Not even the coffee was helping this morning. _Hell, adrenaline alone should have me going. Now it's just a matter of killing this thing without putting me out of commission._ She was just shoving her portable computer into the bag when the knock came at her office door.  
"Ivanova?"  
She had never been so relieved to hear Michael Garibaldi's voice in her life. "Yes, sir. Come in," she replied, keeping up something of the charade that she still worked for the man. _If Garibaldi's ego doesn't need shrinking after this one._  
The man in question sauntered through the door, an I've-got-the-upper-hand strut to his walk that Susan hadn't seen for more years than she cared to remember. She stepped close enough to try to get a sense of his emotions. To the best of her abilities, only part of the peacock strutting was an act. He was feeling too sure of himself for Susan's liking. _We're not out of here yet, Michael. You trip us telepathically, so help me God I'll kill you myself._  
She attempted to bring him back to reality with a glare. As usual, it had no effect. He still smiled like the proverbial cat that ate the equally proverbial canary.  
"Michael," she whispered from between clenched teeth. "Just get us out of here."  
The mischievous glint in Garibaldi's eyes told her precisely one thing. He'd found a way to get them to the hangar.  
"Ready when you are," he replied.  
"Captain?" Sara's soft voice asked. When Garibaldi turned, Susan could see the small woman standing in the half-open doorframe. "You're leaving?"  
Susan's heart fell to somewhere around her stomach. As much as she liked the young telepath, as much as the poor woman would be forced to endure from Medfield and who knew how many others, she couldn't very well have a tagalong in the starfuries. It was going to be hard enough flying the two-person fighter herself. Novices co-piloting Thunderbolts had a bad habit of causing catastrophes.  
"Yes," she replied. "My time here is over." She smiled as a thought struck. "But, I need you here. I know I thought I could get you out of here, but those people down there need you."  
Sara smiled softly. "One of your allies."  
"One of my allies," Susan reassuringly confirmed. "I need you to take care of them. You'll know when to take it to Casinelli. Medfield won't try to dominate you any more."  
"You're sure?"  
Susan nodded. "Take care of them, Sara."  
The small brunette solemnly bowed. It reminded Susan a little too much of Lennier; Lennier, with a little bit of Marcus's fire thrown in for good measure. _Well, Marcus or Alina. Alina's more like him than she knows._  
Alina.  
The rest of the group.  
They were due any second.  
"Sara, I've got to go. I know you'll take care of our friends. Right now, I could use Mister Matheson."  
Sara nodded. "He's outside."  
"Send him in on your way out?"  
"Yes, Captain."  
Turning slowly, Sara made her way toward the door. With a final smile to Susan, the young woman was gone. Susan couldn't help but hope that she had made the right decision. Sara needed to leave the Corps, but Susan needed one person within its ranks that she could trust to get the job done. Sara had seen more than she should have, seen enough to prove to her that the Corps was not the sweet, parental organization that it was spun out to be. Matheson was still a little too accepting of the Corps and its nightmares for Susan's liking. He was on the path to realizing the truth, but in his case, Susan suspected that it would take more than he had seen.  
By the end of the war, Susan suspected that they all would see far more than they ever needed. But, by then, if things went according to the plan she'd been slowly formulating, there would be no more Psi Corps to worry about.  
Provided they all survived.  
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Matheson asked as he entered the office.  
"Yes," Susan replied, gesturing toward Garibaldi. "John Matheson, this is Michael Garibaldi."  
Garibaldi politely nodded.  
Matheson's eyes took on the very same awestruck glaze that Susan had seen on her first meeting with the young man. "Mister Garibaldi, it is an honor."  
Susan could only presume from the ease Garibaldi had with the man that Michael had grown accustomed to people recognizing him over the last two years. _Of course, taking over one of the largest corporations on Mars hasn't exactly kept him an unknown, either._  
"Mister Matheson," Garibaldi began, "I was wondering if you could indulge me in a little favor before we leave."  
"Of course," Matheson nodded.  
Michael's Cheshire-cat grin reappeared with a vengeance. "I've always wanted to take a look at the Black Omegas up close."  
Susan's lips twisted into a long-suffering grimace as she played along. "You've seen enough of them up close, Michael."  
Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. "But I'd like to see one when it's _not_ firing on me, okay?"  
Susan sighed. "Ex-fighter jocks."  
Matheson chuckled, for all intents and purposes oblivious to the maneuvering that was going on around him. "Well, I can take you to the hangar, but actually getting in could be a problem. The hangar's heavily protected."  
The look on Michael Garibaldi's face was absolutely priceless. It took everything Susan had to not laugh at the gee whiz' expression. "I could live with that."  
Susan slowly shook her head, slinging her bag over one shoulder as Matheson led them out of the office. _I can't believe that actually worked. Think it's high time I re-evaluated the kid's usefulness._  
They followed Matheson down progressively less crowded corridors, until they reached what Susan recognized as a locker area for the pilots. Matheson lagged behind, allowing Michael and Susan a brief moment to confer over the plan at hand. At least, they thought they had time to confer on the situation.  
When Susan heard the rumble, she wasn't quite as certain.  
The idea of discussion abandoned her completely as the ground beneath them gave a violent jolt.

----------

_7:35 a.m._

The mask wasn't the best fit, but with a little telekinetic assistance it would work. As Alina stepped through the doors and into the Syria Planum facility, she immediately wondered if Graves would do as she had been told. Even Andrew had told her of his doubts. _It's simple, really,_ she thought as they headed out. _A few small charges on the main line, and escape through the backup line. Remote detonators. Not even Graves could screw that up._  
_But,_ she noted gloomily, _stranger things have happened._  
Alina felt the first tinge of worry from her compatriots as they approached the guard station. Beside her, Stefanie was frightened to her core. _It's all right,_ Alina soothed. _We are harmless, they are harmless._  
Stefanie wasn't strong enough to sense it, but Alina knew that Lyta was projecting far into the guards' minds, unsettling them before the foursome could even approach. She'd seen Vorlon-altered Minbari telepaths able to project that far before, and also witnessed their rate of degeneration increase with each use of their abilities. Her stomach knotted nervously. _Any more runs like this and Lyta may not live to see the end of the war._  
Alina projected ahead as well, gathering a feel of the territory. There were two guards, unnerved over some odd power fluctuations. It was a silly thing for them to worry needlessly over, but it would fill the foursome's needs.   
A snap-hiss from overhead drew Alina's attention. Looking up, she discovered a small camera dangling from a wire in the ceiling. Smoke was trickling out the hole it had once occupied in the roof. Another snap-hiss quickly followed, as securecam after securecam exploded as they passed. Lyta was expending too much energy on the both the guards and securecam for Alina's tastes.  
Alina followed Lyta's projection, subtly searching for childhood memories that could be used in their plan. She found one guard had memories of the Grins repressed so deeply that he wasn't even aware of their presence. Yes, that would do nicely. Her presence allowed Lyta to retreat into the other guard's mind. Alina wasn't quite certain that she wanted to know what kind of nightmares the redhead was stirring in the other man's consciousness.  
When they rounded the corner on the guards' station, not a securecam unit in the vicinity remained functional. A thin haze of smoke drifted around the tiny cameras that had been reduced to nothing more than electrodes and wires hanging from the ceiling. The guards simply stared at them in petrified silence. Alina stepped into the stationhouse without challenge. Laying a hand on each man's shoulder, she simply thought, *Sleep.*  
Each dropped to the floor, unconscious.  
Lyta walked over to three tall rack units, each filled with technical equipment Alina couldn't quite place. She presumed, considering its location, that the racks controlled securecams or some other security equipment in the area. Lyta's eyes slowly opened, their hazel depths replaced by an obsidian black that Alina had grown far too accustomed to seeing of late. Within seconds, a trail of smoke flowed from each of the rack units.  
*They're down,* Andrew confirmed from the corridor.  
Lyta slowly nodded, closing her eyes. *Separate,* she thought. *Stefanie and I will tend to Bester.*  
Alina made one last telekinetic adjustment on her mask as she was leaving the guard station. She wasn't quite certain that the masks were still necessary, but if she had learned anything over the last few years, it was far better to be safe than sorry.  
*Come on,* she thought as she passed Andrew.  
Still wearing the rather unsettling bland smile of a Grin mask, Andrew gestured toward a nearby corridor. *This way. It's on the third level down.*  
One of the advantages of having an insider fighting with their cause became glaringly obvious as Andrew walked over to an innocuously marked door and fiddled with the handle for a few seconds. The door opened onto a stairwell. Alina smiled behind her own mask. *This is too easy.*  
That realization sparked a more deeply buried paranoid streak. Lyta had taken out a good deal of the equipment in the vicinity, but who knew how far into the complex she had reached? Stopping, Alina put a hand to the wall. She sent out feelers, sensing for the circuitry that would betray them. Another familiar snap-hiss greeted her from one corner of the stairwell. *I spoke too soon. Andrew, the cameras are on separate circuits. I'm not sure we can blow them all.*  
Andrew shrugged nonchalantly as he headed down the staircase. *We don't need to blow them all, just the ones on our path.*  
She watched him descend for a few seconds, irritated by the obviousness of the statement  
*You coming?*  
With a low growl, she followed him down the stairs. *One of these days, Keene . . . .*  
Three levels down, they came to a stone wall. Where there should have been a door, where there was a door on every other level, there was nothing but the crimson soil of the excavated walls. Andrew stared. *Where is it?*  
Alina placed her fingers against the wall, extending feelers along the surface. Closing her eyes, she allowed the feelers to guide her to the door trigger. *Here.* She felt Andrew's hand coming towards the trigger. *No. Security's on it.*  
She extended a little more - then triggered the lock.  
The door slid back without so much as a whisper of alarm.  
Retrieving her denn bok from its usual vest pocket, Alina expanded it as she walked into the darkened corridor. As soon as they were safely inside its depths, Alina ripped the mask from her head.  
*Alina?*  
*I can't see in this light,* she replied.   
Andrew removed his mask, taking his PPG from its concealment. *Glad I'm not the only one.*  
A strange sensation began crawling up Alina's spine. Alien, yet somehow familiar. She felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck start to stand on end. *Andrew, are you sensing that?*  
*Yes,* he replied after a few seconds' concentration. *It's faint, but I'm picking up - that way.*  
She followed him down a side corridor, until they reached a dark doorway. There was no handle, no touchpad to control the door. There weren't even lights to give her some indication of where a trigger mechanism might have been. Still, she sensed the odd presence. It was beginning to give her a serious case of the screaming willies. Only one thing had ever given her the willies like that before. *Shadows.*  
*What?*  
*Andrew, whatever's on the other side of this door came from the Shadows. That's the only thing that explains the feelings I'm getting.*  
His eyes widened. *I wonder . . . . *  
His fingers worked around the edge of the doorframe. *There. There's a spot that's been burned out. Looks like a PPG shot, actually. Haven't seen something like this for years.*  
When she looked more closely, she could actually see the spot in question. It was at approximately hip level, right where a doorknob or control pad should have been. The door slid aside before she could formulate another thought, leaving her staring into the face of a small brunette woman in a business suit that came complete with Psi Corps shield. The woman simply stared at Alina and Andrew, eyes wide and mouth agape.  
Andrew lifted the PPG, but it fell from his hands as soon as he heard the rumble. That was when the floor, walls and ceiling all around gave a hideous lurch. 

[End Part 22]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



	23. 

_A Place to Call Home_  
By Terri Osborne  
[terri@terriosborne.com][1]  
Part 23

All Babylon 5 characters and settings belong to JMS, Warner Brothers, TNT and anyone else with legitimate legal claim. No infringement of copyright is intended by this work. Only a few select characters are mine, and should the Great Maker need them, or anyone similar to them, I can probably be bought off with a story credit. ;-)

Even though this covers the same time period and the same major event, no infringement upon J. Gregory Keyes' novels is intended. Though, I will draw upon them for some background information.

Content Warning: [AC] [AL]

Anything encased in * these * is telepathic speech.

Spoilers through Season 5 and the Psi Corps novels.

And thanks to Sarah, Sharon and Keith, my eagle-eyed beta readers! Virtual boxes of Godivas to all of you!

----------

_7:40 a.m._

*I'm going to kill her,* Lyta thought with a cold fury. *Then I'm going to kill Keene for trusting her. Then I'm going to kill Alina for trusting _him_.*  
Tucked away on the other side of the corridor, Stephanie thought, *I don't think Andrew knew, Lyta. Elizabeth is a high P12. She's stronger than Andrew. She could have fooled him easily.*  
Lyta stared at the floor between them, * But I didn't catch it.*  
Stefanie gave a telepathic scoff. *Who did?*  
*I will next time. At least Michael managed to get a homing beacon implanted. It'll make her easier to kill.*  
Lyta felt around the corner, looking for one presence in hundreds. The odds of one man in particular actually being there were astronomical - she didn't want to consider how high. A nervous woman here, a frightened child there, until finally . . . .   
*There you are!*  
She pulled back, not wanting to give away her presence. Slipping the mask back into place, she gestured for Stefanie to follow.  
It was time to give Alfred Bester his wake-up call.  
The level of disconcertion among the people they passed worked in their favor. The bodies parted in a manner that Lyta thought similar to how the Red Sea must have been as Moses passed through its depths.  
*Moses,* she thought with a cold smile. *I like that.*  
The supernatural aspect of it all was multiplied by the snap-hiss after snap-hiss that followed their path as securecams exploded one by one. Not a soul turned a second glance upon them. At one point, she worked her way into a P1's mind, just for the sight of the two of them walking down the corridor in a shower of sparks. It was a frighteningly ominous sight if she did think so herself.  
They turned right, passing into another corridor. Where the halls they had walked to that point had been bustling with people trying to decide whether or not to evacuate after the little Marsquake' (at least, the people she had overheard along the walk were blaming it on a quake), Lyta's spirits were boosted somewhat by the lack of people at their destination.  
*All right, Bester. Time to see if you're still home. Stefanie, follow me. Once you get a line on him, keep him occupied as best you can.*  
Stefanie smiled. *Be happy to.*  
Placing her palm on the door, Lyta allowed her senses to flow out, into the rarely found - at least on Mars - wood of the door, along the metal that supported the structure, out over the walls, along the ceiling. All the while she kept a watchful eye on Alfred Bester's consciousness. There were some strange things there; the strangest was the thought of an old Vorlon research facility on Ganymede. Why hadn't she known about that? She silently eavesdropped on his thoughts, pulling every detail she needed from his mind before going on. When she felt Stefanie latch onto the psionic thread, she pulled away from Bester just enough to keep from being spotted.  
That was when she picked up on the window close to the desk.  
The cold smile expanded with sinister abandon across her features. Yes, this was absolutely perfect.  
She extended herself into the seals on the window, weakening them millimeter-by-millimeter. It wasn't a large window, but it was big enough. Exposure to the Martian atmosphere was enough to kill an unprotected human. When it came down to it, Bester was still a human. A twisted, psychopathic, sadistic, evil little human, but a human nonetheless.  
Seconds ticked by slowly as she worked.  
She sensed Stefanie rip her mask from her head as she worked on keeping Bester occupied. Whatever the young telepath was doing, it was working.  
So far.  
Lyta worked as quickly as she could, taking every precaution to silence the alarms as she went.   
"Lyta," Stefanie whispered, the strain seeping into her voice.  
*Just a few more seconds,* Lyta replied.  
"Hurry."  
She worked the final millimeters of the window seal, fighting to keep the window in place until the last possible second. She was close to the finish when the fear struck her - cold, dead fear. It wasn't a reaction to any of the alarms; she'd killed those as she had passed them. Graves' little mistake had hardly been a big enough explosion to merit fear like she was sensing. What was it?  
One look toward Stefanie told her everything. The young telepath was crumpled over, her breath coming in long, ragged gasps. Her blonde hair was matted to the sides of her face by perspiration. "I can't," she whispered.  
Still sensing the fear, Lyta reached back into the office. She eavesdropped on Bester's mind momentarily before returning most of her attention to the window. He'd been ignoring the sense of panic that was pervasive through the compound, but he was realizing that something was up. He couldn't quite put his mental finger on it. She attempted to split her efforts between keeping him from figuring out what was going on and the task of pushing the window out of its bed. Thanks to the natural pressure difference of the Martian atmosphere, she could almost feel the first trickles of the toxic air seeping through the seam that was already cut.  
One word screamed in her mind in a panicked voice that was still unmistakably Bester's.  
_LYTA!_  
Calmly, she gave the window a telekinetic shove.

----------

_7:40 a.m._

"What the _hell_ was that?" Michael asked as soon as he regained his balance.  
It didn't take long for Susan to realize that Garibaldi wasn't entirely acting. The anger that was in his eyes said it all. If Graves wasn't dead already, there was going to be a queue formed to take care of that particular problem.  
Matheson, however, simply straightened the jacket on his suit. With a deliberateness that Susan hadn't expected in the kid, he walked the few steps to a comm unit embedded in the wall. "Give me Security, please," he said.  
Garibaldi turned his back to Matheson, affording Susan what she knew as his Ready to kill this guy?' expression. Susan gave him the briefest of nods, but it was reluctant agreement. She would kill Matheson if he tried to stop them, but something told her that this wasn't going to be the case. He'd already had enough opportunities to turn her in. Why wait until now?  
"Security."  
"This is John Matheson. I'm wondering if that was just a quake."  
A derisive snort came through the comm speaker. "Of course not. Those damned rebels just blew the last transit line we had completely off the bloody planet."   
"Any casualties?" Matheson asked.  
"None reported, but it's still early," was the reply. "Hang on."  
Susan turned her attention back toward Michael, who was inching closer and closer to the hangar with each second. She raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Wonder what's going on?" she asked, projecting as much innocence as she could manage.  
Michael simply shrugged, scooting one foot closer to the goal.  
After a moment's more silence, the security officer came back on the comm. "Mister Matheson, you'll be happy to know that those lunatics were caught just a minute ago."  
"Really? They survived the blast?"  
"Yup. Caught them in what was left of the next tunnel over."  
Matheson nodded approvingly, "Good work. Thanks for the information. Matheson out."  
A tense silence accompanied him back to where Garibaldi and Susan stood. "Seems we've already taken care of the problem."  
"Seems so," Garibaldi said.  
"Now, let me finish that visit for you, Mister Garibaldi."  
Susan and Michael exchanged a look. This was a side of Matheson that she had yet to witness, a cold, unfeeling, let them eat cake' side that she wasn't sure she trusted. "You don't want to check on the others?" she asked.  
The kid nodded. "Yes, I do. But, what help could I be from here?"  
Garibaldi took the opening before Susan could think of something. "Go ahead. We'll be right here when you get back."  
Matheson smiled. "Good try, Mister Garibaldi, but there are specific rules about you not being left alone in any Psi Corps facility."  
"He won't be alone," Susan stated. "He'll be with me. And if there are rules against _me_ being alone here, you've already broken them."  
Garibaldi chuckled. "Besides, what're we going to do, blow up the place?"  
Matheson's eyes went between the two of them.  
Susan didn't feel a scan, but checked Alina's special barriers again nonetheless.   
After a long moment, he nodded. "All right. Stay right here."  
Susan gave a nod of acknowledgement.  
"We'll just go right over here - talk business," Garibaldi added, gesturing further down the corridor.  
With a nod, Matheson turned and stepped back to the comm unit.  
This time, Garibaldi led Susan a few feet further down the hall, around a large slot in the wall. _Interesting,_ Susan thought. _Andrew said there were bulkheads around the hangar. I wonder-_  
"Stay here," Michael whispered.  
"What?"  
"Just don't go back across. If Lyta's right, it should be right about-"  
Another explosion sounded in the distance.  
Garibaldi grinned impishly as the bulkhead door slammed down.

----------

_7:40 a.m._

Alina held the _denn bok_ in a defensive position, riding the shake of the Martian soil around her until it subsided. When it was finally over, she turned what she hoped was her most withering glare on Andrew. "Your lady friend had best be dead, or I'll take care of that problem personally."  
Andrew leaned down and recovered his PPG from the ground. "Lady friend?"  
Every ounce of her being wanted to pursue the subject, but it was simply something that would have to wait. Shifting her grip on the _denn bok_, Alina firmly held one end of the fighting pike at the throat of the woman who had been on the other side of the door. "Out of my way."  
"No! I'm on your side!" The brunette held out her hands pleadingly. "Help me get these people out of here. They need the resistance. You need them!"  
Alina extended her senses briefly in an attempt to get a feel for the woman. When she sensed no duplicity, she asked, "Who are you?"  
The woman heaved a sigh. "My name is Sara. Please, help me get these people out of here."  
Dubious, Alina scanned the room as quickly as she could for conspirators. The Shadow presence came at her from every darkened corner. She counted fifteen other people in the room, some tucked away in the shadows, two oddly curled in the center of the room. All were in black uniforms that were in some form of disarray, and all had perfectly clean-shaven heads littered with surgical scars. _That's it. **They**'re what I'm sensing. This is the Shadow presence. It's in their minds. In Valen's name_  
She shook her head hard in an attempt to forcibly remove that thought. It was difficult enough just to tone out the smell of too many people crowded into a small room without any hygienic facilities. She walked over to where a woman lay curled around a small black bundle. No sensation of life emanated from her, and a hand to the flesh revealed cold skin. "This woman's dead," she stated, somewhat surprised.  
"Very observant," Sara dryly said. "She killed herself last night. Her baby died sometime yesterday. Best I can tell the baby died of malnutrition."  
One dark eyebrow rose. "Surprised they haven't begun decomposing."  
"Bureau Thirteen," Sara said, her voice cold with anger. "I did some digging last night. One of their experiments was on nanotechnology that would delay decomposition of a corpse. You're looking at the first two test subjects. They got a side bonus in finding out that a mother could pass them to the baby. Looks like the bastards starved the kid to death to test the technology."  
Andrew visibly shuddered. "I heard rumors that Thirteen had a dumping ground on Mars. Never thought it would have been here."  
Alina turned a glare on Sara. "You knew about this," she accused.  
"I just found out yesterday."  
"Why didn't you get them out yesterday?"  
Sara held her hands out imploringly. "And take them where? Where am I supposed to hide fifteen telepaths that are in this state? How am I going to bury the dead?" She pointed toward a woman that was leaning against the wall. Her black, fatigue-style uniform was obviously newer than the others, her recently-shaven head was covered in fresh surgical wounds. "What about her? How do I explain the road maps on her head? What do I do with that that doesn't jump up and say escapee?"  
The sight was enough to make Alina feel sick. The smell wasn't helping her stomach, either. The last time she had encountered such a nauseating mix of bitter and sweet aromas had been on an accidental adventure into one of the less savory areas of Daltron Seven.   
She felt Andrew begin to sicken as well, and placed a hand on his arm. "I can't believe humans would still do something like this to their own people," she whispered.  
Andrew scoffed. "This from a woman who trained with the Minbari."  
"What?" Alina asked, incredulous.  
"You studied with a race that damned near wiped out humanity."  
Dread formed like a small rock in her still queasy stomach. "Yes? What does that have to do with this?"  
"You seem to think they're so much better than we are, yet they're willing to openly embrace genocide whenever it suits them."  
The words rang all too familiar. Alina's jaw dropped in utter disbelief. When speech finally returned, all she could do was whisper, "There's no time for this. We _will_ discuss whatever you want when we get back. You can _count_ on that. Now, are you going to help me get these people out of here, or do I have to kill you?"  
Her argument was cut off by another, slightly more distant rumble, accompanied by the sound of small rocks falling in the distance.  
"What was that?" Sara asked, eyes wide.  
Alina shook her head. "Not sure," she said. "That one's not in the plan."  
The faint sounds of door after heavy door slamming shut made it to her ears. She'd only heard such a thing once before, on a passenger liner fifteen years in the past. It wasn't the kind of sound that was easily forgotten. _Bulkheads are dropping. Something's compromised the internal atmosphere. Lyta, what have you done?_  
"We need to get out of here," she stated. "Now. Get these people together and we'll go back to the stairs."  
Sara grabbed Alina's shirtsleeve. "Some of these people can't walk."  
"Then take them on the lift." There had to be a lift. There was always a lift. "There _is_ a lift in this place, isn't there?"   
Andrew stepped into the hall. In seconds, he was pointing off down another corridor. "This way."  
Alina walked into the corridor beside him, checking the information for herself.  
It took more time than she would have liked to get the thirteen telepaths up and around. Sara made a concerted effort to get the two deceased telepaths to a point where they could be recovered for burial later. One older man was having trouble standing, while another little boy wouldn't leave the room at all. A mental nudge was all it took to get the child up and around, but the older man had a more pressing dilemma.  
According to Sara's research, Thirteen had also been testing methods of controlling reactions to pain. When Alina examined the man, she discovered that while he was somehow still able to stand, it was going to be virtually impossible for him to walk with two missing kneecaps. She sent Sara out into the corridor on a quick search. _If this pit has any medical facilities, they must have a wheelchair._  
One by one, Alina and Andrew managed to get the telepaths to the lift, even the woman that Sara had pointed out to her earlier. Taking that woman's hand to help her up, Alina immediately registered hatred so extreme that it turned her still-queasy stomach. She turned custody of the woman over to Andrew as quickly as she possibly could, if only to try and keep from adding to the smell of the room with the rations that she had consumed for lunch.  
The deeper they got into the thirteen people that had been in the room, the faster Alina pushed Andrew to get them out. She was beginning to sense a weakness in the walls around the lift. Small rocks were trickling down almost like rain from the ceiling. _Faster. Must go faster._  
Finally, the old man was the only person remaining. The pain of motion was evident in his gaze as he looked up at her from the floor.  
*We will get you out of here. I promise.*   
Where the hell was Sara with that wheelchair?  
Alina ran into the hall, frantically searching the corridors for the small brunette while she attempted to concoct alternate ways of helping the man to move. _We might be able to carry him up the lift, but then what? It's not like we can carry him the whole way._  
The sound of small rocks falling in the distance sped up her train of thought. She helped the man wrap an arm around Andrew's shoulders and one around her own. It wasn't pretty, but it would get him out of there.  
She hoped.   
As a last-ditch effort, she tried supporting the old man telekinetically as the threesome slowly hobbled down the corridor. It worked for a few steps, until her energy began to run out.  
_Please, Valen, if Sara doesn't find something soon we're all going to die._  
Alina took another step, stumbling briefly as she lost her footing. More rocks fell in the distance.  
This time they sounded larger.  
She frantically strengthened her grasp on the man's arm, somehow managing to keep him upright.  
That was when she heard what might possibly have been the sweetest sound of her life.  
It was a sound vaguely similar to fingernails on a chalkboard, grating to any ears that weren't in such desperate straits. But the most rickety, dilapidated wheelchair that Alina had ever seen was making it. Sara ran behind it, coming toward them like a manic nurse.  
"Thank the Great Maker," Andrew breathed.  
Sara fought to catch her breath. "Had to hunt through every room down here."  
They slowly lowered the old man into the thing. Alina fought to keep from cringing at the sound the wheels made as Sara careened down the corridor with the old man.  
Andrew helped take seven of the telepaths up on the lift, returning to allow Sara to take the others.  
"I'll wait for you upstairs," Sara said as the doors closed.  
A rumble sounded from above, and alarms that had heretofore been silent began wailing in the night. "Stairs, Andrew."  
He nodded, running back toward the corridor and the direction from which they'd first come.  
They both ducked falling rocks as they ran. "These rocks are getting bigger," she noted with dread as they ran. Somehow, they made it back to the same utility staircase they had first descended.   
She was just about to yell for him to hurry when the ceiling a few meters behind them started to collapse.

----------

_7:48 a.m._

PPG fire, this time coupled with a little quick rewiring, allowed Susan and Michael access to the hangar. Between the two of them, the supposedly secure door was open in a matter of seconds.  
"What happened, Michael? What did you mean, If Lyta's right'?"  
He shook his head. "I don't know. It's just that while that Matheson kid was screwing around talking to security, I got this - I don't know, feeling - from Lyta. Almost like she was telling me what she was doing. She yanked a window out in Bester's office. This place is so full of bulkheads and pressure doors that I figured putting one between us and the kid wouldn't hurt."  
"Good thought." Susan idly added, "Wonder if she got the bastard?"  
"Doubt it," Michael replied with a sinister smile. "She's saving him for me."  
Susan scanned the hangar as quickly as possible, hoping the flight suits would be in an obvious location. There were five Thunderbolts tucked away in the semi-darkness. It looked as though none had seen any flight time in the last week, at the very least. _What are dust covers doing on those scanners? Obviously not a great military mind in this bunch,_ Susan thought with a great sense of satisfaction. _Otherwise they'd have been doing flybys with these babies. That's good to know._  
"Flight suits. Wonder where they're keeping them?"  
At that point a tingle began at the base of her skull, not quite a return engagement of her horrific headaches, but enough to be a distraction. If she ever figured out what was causing the things, she'd be deliriously happy to surgically remove said cause from her life forever. _Now if I could just figure out why the damned things barely showed up in the last three weeks, life would be beautiful._  
This time, however, the tingle turned into a nagging sensation. Something told her to walk toward a dark cabinet on the far side of the hangar. It didn't feel like a scan, but there were enough high-level telepaths in the area that it wasn't out of the question. Talia, the old Talia, had once told her of grouping together several telepaths and fooling Bester. It wasn't out of the question.  
Giving the PPG a charge, she trained it on the cabinet door with one hand and yanked the door open with the other. When she realized what was in the cabinet, she lowered the weapon with an embarrassed laugh.   
"Nice job, Ivanova," Michael quipped. "Now that you've captured the renegade flight suits, want to blow this place?"  
She slipped the safety back on the PPG, fighting the urge to deck Garibaldi. _I'd have probably said the same thing._ Instead, she opted for tossing a flight helmet at him, with possibly a little more force than was necessary. "Here. Help me rig the furies, then get suited up, we don't have much time."  
It only took a few minutes for the duo to deal with the extraneous starfuries in the hangar. Susan slipped into the open hatch of one starfury, setting the engines to a five-minute overload. As long as the bulkhead doors held, the odds of someone getting hurt in the explosion were non-existent. _And a nice, big boom that doesn't hurt anybody is precisely what we want._  
The occasional sound of breaking consoles, the snap of cables breaking preceded by a groan here and there, suggested that Michael was doing his best to disable the other two starfuries - just in case Susan didn't get what she wanted.  
"You've got three minutes before we have to get the hell out of here, Garibaldi," Susan said as she hurriedly put on the flight suit and ran toward the Thunderbolt she intended to commandeer. "Get it in gear."  
Two minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, they were streaking out of the hangar.  
Two minutes after that, the hangar turned into a raging inferno.

[End Part 23]

   [1]: mailto:terri@terriosborne.com



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